


My Life Belongs To My Country, But My Heart Will Always Be Yours

by Renai_chan



Series: My Life Belongs To My Country, But My Heart Will Always Be Yours [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Rimming, Secret Relationship, Statutory Rape, Wall Sex, Whipping, but not really, dub con blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crown Prince Anthony of Stark tries to keep his relationship with Sir Steven Rogers a secret from his father, but when Archduke Obadiah Stane is assigned to be his guardian in the king’s absence, their relationship becomes Obadiah’s leverage for control.</p><p>Accompanying Art by scarab: <a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/c3b7c8f67355a4dc0e70584f90935d8f/tumblr_mx4wvg0Oef1qipwoco1_1280.png">click here</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Life Belongs To My Country, But My Heart Will Always Be Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is probably my most favorite work to date. I hadn't put as much love into it as it deserves because toward the latter part of my writing it, my real life went to shit. But it's still my most favorite thing and I _loooooves_ it. Hopefully, you guys love it too.
> 
> I'd like to thank Sara and Kelly for betaing my work for me--you guys rock especially fantastically! But most especially, I'd like to thank my lovely artist Scarab for putting up with my scatterbrained-ness and still giving my fic the art of my dreams. You are an utterly gorgeous person! (And if you, my readers, don't [check her art out](http://scarabsethart.tumblr.com) and tell her how lovely it is, I'll be terribly, terribly disappointed in you. *makes a disappointed face*)
> 
> I had planned to make this a longer fic, but midway through writing the second half, I realized it no longer fit with the original plot, so I may or may not have an extra five thousand words in my hands that may or may not become a sequel for this. We'll see. Plus, I also have about six side stories in mind covering non-Stony relationships (spoilers (or not): Natasha/Bucky, Bruce/Betty, Pepper/Rhodey, Thor/Jane, Clint/Phil). I'm being pretty ambitious and optimistic, actually, considering I haven't the slightest interest in writing het fics, but my ideas for their back/side stories (esp. Natasha/Bucky) are particularly interesting (for me anyway). The completion of these writing is going to depend on how shit 2014 is going to be.

An arrow landed on his desk, embedded deeply in the wood a mere inch from his pinky. There was a second's moment of indescribable panic, a scream caught halfway in his throat, as his brain reminded him that he was sitting much too close to the window—something he'd been reminded not to do far too many times because it put him at the perfect angle for an assassin's attack—before he caught sight of the trademark purple vanes of the arrow's tail, and he laughed in frantic relief.

 

He grabbed the arrow and yanked it none too gently out of the woodwork (of his  _very_ expensive desk. _Someone_  was going to be in trouble). Around the shaft, just below the stylized head (which was another trademark of his father's prized archer), there was a piece of paper wrapped. He pried it off quickly, curiosity overtaking care, and rolled it open to read the neat scrawl.

 

_You've been holed away in your laboratory for far too long, my beautiful prince. Come find me._

It wasn't signed, but it didn't have to be; he'd recognize the elegant script—and the endearment—anywhere, and at it, an ecstatic smile stole over his face. He grabbed the nearest quill and ripped off a blank bit of parchment from his notes before scrawling his response (his own penmanship was nowhere near as nice as that on the note he received, but he didn't mind all that much). Then he grabbed a weighted item of little importance—a hunk of iron from one of his projects—and wrapped the torn parchment around it, securing it with some string.

 

He leaned out of the window (and ignored the mental image of his bodyguard admonishing him about why he shouldn't do that, and _God Almighty, do you want to get killed? Do you want **me** to get killed? Because I am at the prime of my life, and I have a promising future ahead of me.  **Please** don't get into situations where your father is going to decide to behead me._ It was probably a good thing he was alone in the workshop right now.), searching for the arrow's source. With a grin, he aimed at the stocky, blond man who was leaning against a tree trunk, cleaning his fingernails with the head of an identical arrow, and threw the hunk of iron at him with all his might.

The shot was clumsy, and he didn't, not for a second, think it would hit him. True enough, the iron fell onto and buried itself half an inch into the ground some three feet away from the closest foot. The man was neither surprised nor particularly bothered. He picked up the object casually and inspected the attached note before seeing his name printed in big bold letters on the outside. He tugged the paper from beneath the string and read the message inside briefly, then grinned, looked up, and saluted casually, before sheathing his arrow, pocketing the note, and walking away.

 

 _Is this what archers do in the off season, Barton? Play Cupid for star-crossed lovers?_ it had said.  _P.S. You owe me a desk_. 

 

Tony grinned to himself and then turned his back to the window and made his way out into the hallway. He found just the man he needed, the head of his guard, standing just outside the door, talking quietly with one of their newest members.

 

"I want to take a walk, James. Any particular place you would recommend?" he asked casually. Lieutenant James Rhodes, a tall, dark skinned man of twenty eight, glanced at him, and his lips gave a tiny, almost invisible quirk.

 

"A walk, little prince? A sudden change of heart on your health and fitness, have you?" he asked teasingly, and Tony glared at him. He'd been trying to get Rhodey to drop the nickname ever since he'd hit puberty, but after four unsuccessful years, Tony had long since given up. It didn't mean, however, that he had to like it.

 

"Yes, Rhodes, a walk. And I’m asking for your opinion on where I should visit. Or should I ask the Lady Virginia?" he asked again, trying to be stern about it. But really, when someone has known you for almost a decade, ever since you were a snot-nosed spoiled brat of a child (not that he'd changed a whole lot since then), it was pretty hard to be taken seriously. Rhodey chuckled and only barely refrained from ruffling his hair because he was in the presence of a new member.

"The weather is fantastic today. A stroll by the lake would be in perfect order,” he said instead. Tony nodded in approval and, without further word, started through one of the castle’s many halls. The clunking of Rhodey’s armor echoed around them as he followed, but the other guard, it seemed, was left to stand guard at his lab. “Should I ask someone to fetch Pepper?” he asked while they made their way through the halls. It took Tony all of a second to make a decision about that.

 

“God, no,” he said quickly, a healthy dose of fear and anxiety in his tone as was only appropriate when dealing with the formidable force that was Lady Virginia Potts, his… well, not lady-in-waiting because he certainly wasn’t a woman, but the female equivalent of his valet. “Leaver her be. I promised her an afternoon to herself, and if she were forced to tear herself out of the library, I’m very sure she’d tear my hair out.”

 

“Good choice,” Rhodey said after a moment’s pause to consider the mental image.

 

“How long has he been back?” Tony asked, changing topics as soon as they were a good distance away outside and perfectly alone in the east gardens. By then, Rhodey had caught up with him and was walking at his side—not proper for a guard to do, even if he was the head, but acceptable for a best friend, which Rhodey was. He had known Tony since he was seven, after all, and had been at his side for every major event of his life since then. In that time, he had become one of Tony’s closest confidantes… even if he  _was_  twelve years older and about a foot taller.

 

“About three hours now. Commander Carter had him stay back for a bit of debriefing,” Rhodey answered, not even having to ask who Tony was talking about. The prince huffed.

 

“I would think that woman takes perverse pleasure in purposely holding him back except I know that she doesn’t know,” he said a little petulantly, but then it had been  _three weeks_ , and while Tony fully supported his decision to become a proper knight, there was only for so long Tony was willing to—no, was  _able_  to wait (no one had ever accused Tony of being selfless). Rhodey coughed lightly, prompting Tony to send him the stink eye. “Does she not?”

 

“Not that I know of?” Rhodey tried. Tony stopped and crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he demanded. His bodyguard sighed loudly, an admittance of defeat.

 

“You forget, I think that she technically has Natasha under her command,” Rhodey pointed out, and  _of course_  Tony had. There was literally  _nothing_  Natasha did not know or could not find out, which made her an indispensible spy, but a threat to everybody’s secrets, be they embarrassing, dangerous or what-have-you, and if she knew, it wasn’t far off to think that Peggy did too.

 

Not that he was embarrassed for his secret or anything (quite the opposite really) but he was rather wary of it reaching his father’s ears. He’d been repeatedly told that, as the crown prince of Stark, he had to keep the position at his side vacated until they find the perfect match for him—romance was only an option for peasants—in addition to the fact that any relationship was seen a weakness, a target for silver-tongued politicians and other more sinister threats.

 

“And who else is privy?” he asked carefully. Rhodey shrugged.

 

“Aside from Barton, Pepper, and I? Happy, maybe? Definitely Jarvis, but beyond that, I cannot claim to know exactly. No one tells Pepper and I anything if they don’t want it getting back to you because they know it won’t be long before you, too, know about it.” Tony smiled in appreciation of the confession, but the weakness of his smile only made Rhodey frown. He stopped and grasped Tony’s shoulders, his eyes turning sincere. “Don’t concern yourself about it. I’m fairly sure that while the corps are wagering on how long it’ll take before Steven bucks up and asks the king for your hand (a blush crossed Tony’s cheeks), none of them would ever do anything to hurt you, physically or otherwise,” he said seriously, then thought to add in mischief, “Plus, they’re pretty heavy Stony devotees.” Tony’s jaw dropped, and he gaped for a second.

 

“’ _Stony’_?!” he near screeched, sending Rhodey into howling fits of laughter.

 

“Yeah. You know, ‘Steven’ ‘Anthony’… ‘ _Stony_ ,’” he answered. Tony blinked in an appalled manner before stalking the rest of the way to the lake through the labyrinth of hedges while muttering ‘ _Stony?! Who on God’s green Earth came up with_ that _? I’ll be damned if it wasn’t Dugan.’_

The castle’s lake wasn’t the largest in the kingdom—hell, not even in the capital state—at best, it was really only a very large pond, large enough to occupy at least a third of the castle’s acreage, stretching beyond the east gardens and wrapping around the building to the southern gates. In the afternoon light, with the sun just about to set, its surface sparkled brightly, a sight made only more beautiful by the blossoming lotuses and the swans swimming about.

 

With a lack of specific direction, Tony chose to head to the gazebo situated on the water’s edge. It was small, made of carved white marble and wrapped in vines, making it pretty, but secluded which was one of its more appealing characteristics. Tony used it often when he needed to get away from court for a bit.

 

It was disappointingly empty, though, but because he wasn’t sure where else to go, he stepped up and inside just to make sure that it really was empty and to take a moment and enjoy the lake’s placid scenery, then he moved to turn to look at his other haunts.

 

As he did—or tried to do so—a pair of strong arms wrapped around his shoulders, and a big body pressed up against his back, moving him closer to the gazebo’s railing and pinning him there for all the flowers and fowl to see. It was surprising and quick, but Tony didn’t find himself caught in even a single ounce of fear of the pure, physical power that thrummed from the man behind him. Instead, a wide grin settled over his lips, and he melted back into the arms that held him.

 

A pair of lips caressed the skin of his neck and a warm breath gushed over his ear as the other man spoke.

 

“Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you, darling prince.” Tony shivered in delight at the action and at the words, but managed to find it in himself to respond.

 

“And yet you still find reasons to leave my side,” he said, intent to tease, but knowing Steve would hear the truth in it anyway. Another kiss was pressed to his neck.

 

“I would never leave you, Anthony. Not really,” he answered and then allowed Tony to turn around. The prince lifted himself up on the balls of his feet to press a more significant kiss onto the blond’s lips, and Steve cupped the back of his head and wrapped an arm around his waist to secure the smaller man against him while he returned it. They stood like that, motionless save for their questing, yielding mouths and tongues, for long minutes, basking in the feel of each other’s arms. And then Tony pulled back and buried his face in Steve’s chest.

 

“I’m glad you’re back,” he confessed while Steve stroked his hair and pressed a kiss to it.

 

“Come with me,” the taller man said, stepping away, but clasping a hand around Tony’s which he used to lead the prince to a clear patch of grass a few yards away. On the bank of the lake, beneath a low-hanging willow, food was set up for two, cheeses and fruits and breads and wine and several sweets from the borders that Tony was already craving to eat, but Tony couldn’t see who had set it out nor guarded it from the local wildlife (There was sure to be someone around, but he trusted Steve and Rhodey to have chosen only those who had his best interests in mind to watch over him). “I had the kitchens prepare us a picnic basket, but Dame Margaret managed to waylay me at the time I planned for us to eat it. Maybe we can get a few bites in before you have to attend dinner.”

 

“Well, I certainly hope we can get more than a few _bites_ in,” Tony answered with a leer which made Steve laugh. The knight sat first and then tugged Tony onto his lap so that the prince straddled him. Tony’s robes got in the way, but it took only a minute to adjust them and settle his lover before they were kissing again. Steve grasped his hips, pinning him in place, and Tony cupped Steve’s cheeks, pulling him closer. Their mouths parted almost immediately, and their tongues slid against each other’s with no ounce of hesitation.

 

 _God,_  how Tony had missed Steve.

 

With his training, he’d been leaving for longer and longer times when they would send him to patrol borders and experience actual combat first hand. It was luck that the kingdom was currently in a state of peace, but Tony was afraid that one day, when war finally came, he’d be gone for years upon years—or worse, forever.

 

Sometimes, he wanted to be selfish and ask Steve to give up his dream of being a knight of the army corps, his father’s specialized army division, and he knew if he did, Steve would agree in an instant. He didn’t, though, because he may be a spoiled, selfish brat of a prince, but he wanted to give Steve more than that. Steve  _deserved_  more than that.

 

When they were young, Steve had always been too small and sickly for his age, but even then, against odds that would have put a halt to most other people, he had always and passionately wanted to be a knight. Tony had met him when he was five and Steve eleven, and Doctor Abraham Erskine, who was Steve’s adoptive father, had just moved into the castle as the king’s personal physician. Tony had spent days wandering around the castle, angling to bump into the blond boy to whom he was never properly introduced and who  _fascinated_  him like no one else.

 

As the prince, he was not wanting for playmates, every duke and count clamoring to send their child up to the castle to become Tony’s best friend (it was, in fact, exactly how he had met Pepper who did become just that), but those children were almost always so boring and stuffy and simpering and always so fixated on his status the way their parents raised them to be. But Steve…

 

Steve was timid and polite and had startlingly blue eyes. He had deep bags under each one and wore humble clothes that were befitting a stable boy more than the royal physician’s son. He shied away from Tony in a way no one else had ever done and hid himself away from the prince and his haunts. And then one day, Tony had seen him at the front edge of the southern woods practicing sword parries and thrusts with a long stick until he was wheezing and coughing and Dr. Erskine rushed out to berate him.

 

Tony came back the next day with two beautifully crafted practice swords of his own, and they had been friends since.

 

He later found out that no one would take Steve as a page because he was too sickly to be of any worth. But when Tony was eight and Steve fourteen, Steve was sent away to serve as a squire for Dame Margaret Carter. She was a strong woman, but undermined often on account of her gender. As such, not many people would want their progeny to train under her. At first, she had been adamant not to take on Steve. He hadn’t served as a page, he was small, and he was sickly, and Peggy couldn’t afford to be held back by a poor squire. But Erskine was a good friend, and it helped that Steve had a best friend in the prince, so Peggy had conceded to take him on. Steve was gone for three years, the longest they’d ever been apart since they met.

 

That time had been good to him. When he came back, he was a strapping young man of seventeen with a stature befitting a knight of the highest order and the physique of an Fontainian marble statue. Tony hadn’t cared about that then; he only cared that he had his best friend back. But Steve was always busy helping Peggy and didn’t have time for the young prince. In a fit of pique, Tony threw tantrums and declared he wanted to live in the castle in the lands of Duchess Viola (Pepper’s mother). It didn’t take much persuading to get the king to agree (in fact, it didn’t take any persuading  _at all_ ), so Tony was sent away, returning only every few months when duties required.

 

His and Steve’s relationship grew distant over the course of the next few years. They kept up with each other through letters and the occasional visit when Tony was at the capital, but otherwise, they were busy with their own work.

 

One summer, after Tony hadn’t returned for a good year and a half, they’d stumbled upon each other in the hallways of the castle at the capital. Steve had just been knighted, and Tony had turned fifteen. There was a moment’s pause to acknowledge the time in which they hadn’t seen each other. Steve’s eyes were still as startlingly blue as they had always been, his physique was still that of a sculptor’s dreams, and his stature befit his new status more than ever.

 

This time around, Tony _noticed_.

 

And Steve noticed him right back.

 

“How long until you have to leave again?” Tony asked later when their boiling hunger for each other had waned to a mere simmer. He was stretched out across the length of Steve’s body, his elbows propped on the sculpted chest and his fingers tracing abstract patterns on it. Steve lifted a grape to his lips which he parted easily. He licked his lips just to watch Steve’s eyes fall to them.

 

“Dame Margaret says it won’t be for a while. You’re father’s leaving in a few days for Asgard on King Odin’s invitation. She says I’m to stay here,” he said, then his lips quirked. “To watch over you.” Tony scowled.

 

“I don’t need  _watching_ ,” he said. “I’ve already too many people doing that.” Then he smirked mischievously. “Unless there’s a different kind of watching you’d like to do?” Steve laughed and hauled him closer for another kiss. Tony’s lips were already tingling from their first hundred, but he didn’t deny the knight another one.

 

“I don’t think there can ever be too many people watching over you,” the older man said. “You have the slipperiness of a skink and the wiles of a fox.” Tony looked horribly affronted, prompting Steve into a round of hysterical laughs just before he rolled the both of them over and pinned Tony beneath him. He kissed the prince again. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered tenderly, but what his hands were saying were a whole other matter as they slipped between the folds of Tony's robes and beneath the waist of his pants. The breath in Tony's lungs caught in his throat as Steve's hand closed around him. Gently with his mouth, Steve sucked the air right out.

 

"Steven?" came a quiet, polite interruption. “I don't think this is a good place to start... well, that.” Steve only sighed loudly as he dropped his head on his lover's shoulder, and Tony groaned.

 

"For God's sake, Barnes. Couldn't you have waited five goddamned minutes?" the prince swore, then protested unintelligibly when Steve moved, but the soldier was already pulling his hand away, so it was a lost cause.

 

"Apologies, your highness," Bucky answered, but there was a grin in his tone that had Tony peeking an eye open to glare at him.

 

"That's not a language befitting a prince, Anthony," Steve reprimanded gently. He sat up and tugged Tony up with him, oblivious (or, more accurately, subtly amused) to the glare Tony turned to him. "And Bucky's right. Dinner's probably been served. You'll be missed." Tony sighed in acquiescence and allowed Steve to pull him to his feet, but not before he pulled him down for a last kiss, and even when the kiss ended, Tony kept him close for a minute more, conveying in that silence everything Tony couldn't say out loud in the presence of others. There was a question in his mind that he willed over to Steve who seemed to understand it despite the lack of words. "Yes, okay," he answered with patronizing amusement on his lips, but eagerness in his tone. Then he turned to Rhodey who had jogged up beside Bucky. “I’ll escort him back up to the castle. Why don’t you go and rest?” Rhodey only scoffed.

 

“It amuses me that you actually believe that’s possible,” he answered, but he bade his goodbyes anyway, as did Bucky, and they both walked off in the general direction of the barracks. When they had departed, Tony grabbed Steve by the front of his tunic and jerked him close.

 

“They’re gone. Can I show you now just how much I missed you?” he murmured then licked his lips for good effect. It didn’t escape him when Steve’s eyes dropped to his mouth.

 

“I—no,” the blond answered, jerking back and visibly reigning himself in. Tony grinned. “No,” Steve repeated more firmly. “Your parents will be wondering where you are. We should go.” And he  _actually_  walked away, making sure to tug Tony along behind him by the hand. The prince pouted, but since Steve wasn’t looking at him, it had little effect.

 

They made short work of the walk back through the gardens and up the entrance steps, Steve dropping Tony’s hand and moving to his back at the first servant they encountered. The pair headed toward the dining room where the royal family took their meals when there were no guests, but before entering, Steve leaned in just a little too close, but subtly so as not to draw attention from the palace guards that flanked the doors.

 

“Leave your window unlocked tonight,” he murmured. Tony hid his grin and gave a tiny, tiny nod. Then the guards spotted them and opened the doors to the dining room.

 

“Good evening, father, mother,” the prince greeted breezily just before pausing when he caught sight of a guest sitting to Howard’s right. Archduke Obadiah Stane wasn’t an unfamiliar face, and Tony shouldn’t have been surprised to see him. If his father was leaving the kingdom, then he was definitely going to invite Obi to reside in the castle during his absence. Howard was of the opinion that Tony needed constant guidance, especially in the matters of running the country (which was true really), so he always asked his most trusted nobleman—and Tony’s godfather—to act as Tony’s advisor in his absence. “Archduke Stane,” Tony tacked on quickly.

 

“Sit down, darling, and join us,” Maria instructed gently. Tony obeyed without further word, leaving Steve standing in the open doorway for all three adults to catch sight of.

 

“Oh, hello, Steven. We hadn’t realized you had returned,” Howard greeted absently before spearing a green bean and depositing it in his mouth. Tony tried not to feel jealous at the attention bestowed on Steve, as miniscule as it was—it wasn’t Steve’s fault and God knew he deserved every last glance he got—but he hadn’t missed…  _couldn’t_  possibly miss how Howard had always tended to favor Steve in a way he didn’t Tony.

 

To his own son, he was brisk and perfunctory—and sometimes harsh—as though he expected Tony’s love and appreciation simply by virtue of being his parent and as though every moment was an opportunity to train his son to be the same cold bastard he was (several times, Howard had told him how being devoid of emotion was necessary to be able to truly rule properly, so Tony’s opinion on this was only fed and fattened). With Steve, however, he was accommodating and engaging, often vocally, in what seemed an effort to garner Steve’s love. It was like Steve was a place to relocate the affection he held back from Tony.

 

Steve bowed at the waist perfunctorily as he answered. As always, his voice was neutral, polite, and indifferent, and Tony was grateful  that he never reveled in Howard’s favor, especially not in his presence.

 

“Good evening, your majesties. I had only just, actually.”

 

“Do join us, Steven,” Maria invited, gesturing him over. “It’s been a while, and I’d love to hear about you.” The servants were quick to add another place setting beside Tony, and Steve looked uncertain for a moment, but he couldn’t disobey a direct command, no matter how nicely it was said, so he nodded and took his place. It wasn’t his first time to dine with the royal family, but it had been quite a while since he had last done so.

 

“Peggy doesn’t give you a hard time I hope?” Howard asked.

 

“She only does what’s best, your majesty,” Steve said while a servant placed a covered plate before him. It was opened up to reveal a poached quail with boiled vegetables, just like everyone else’s meals. It still amazed Tony, even after being exposed to it his entire life, just how efficient the staff was (certainly, they hadn’t expected the additional guest?), but then Jarvis, the chief steward of the house, had always been terribly efficient, and Tony knew he ran the castle with an iron fist.

 

“Well, that’s certainly the most polite way I’ve heard of saying she works you too hard,” Howard laughed. “But it must be certainly doing you well. I’ve received only high praise about you from her.” Steve blushed at the words.

 

“I do my best, sir. It’s the only way I can repay her for taking me as her protégé,” he explained with all due humility. “Although I’d like to take this opportunity to express my profound gratitude at your favor in moving up my ceremony.”

 

“Think nothing of it,” Howard waved the thanks away flippantly. “I have certainly no regrets in knighting you earlier than usual.” That was the last he said to Steve because he turned to Obadiah and said, “I remember Steve when he was as small as Tony, only yea high, considering he’s six years older. Poor little boy looked underfed.” Obadiah stole a glance at Steve before nodding in agreement.

 

“Well, your good favor certainly seems to have done him well because he is, in no sense of the word, little any longer,” the archduke answered.

 

“He’s a fine knight,” agreed Howard. Tony glanced at Steve who was eating quietly, trying to seem like he wasn’t listening in on the conversation, but blushing anyway. He nudged him with his knee and got nudged back even if there was no outward indication of Steve having done so.

 

They quickly finished their meals through Howard and Obadiah’s casual conversation, and then Steve stood and bowed deep at the waist.

 

“Thank you, your majesties, it was a wonderful meal,” he said correctly. “But I’m afraid I must take my leave. Dame Margaret will be looking for me.”

 

“Good evening then, Steven,” Howard dismissed, and Tony watched him go, the small twinge in his heart quelled only by the thought that Steve would find him later.

 

“He’s a fine young man,” Obadiah said. “He’ll make a handsome husband for any man or woman. Could I offer my son’s hand maybe?” Tony’s glance suddenly snapped to the archduke then to Howard, dread pooling in his gut as they waited for his answer. It would be well within the king’s rights to ask Steve to marry anyone he desired, whether or not Steve was willing to do so. Howard laughed uproariously.

 

“I see what you’re doing, Obi,” he said. “Stealing my finest knights for your own? I certainly won’t allow that.” Obadiah smiled back, as if to convey that what he said was a joke, but Tony could see the weakness in it.

 

“I assure you I have no such intentions, your majesty,” he said.

 

“Steven tells me you intend to leave for the Asgardian kingdom, father?” Tony interrupted politely, steering the conversation away from dangerous grounds. Howard’s attention quickly followed suit, but his amusement notably dimmed.

 

“Yes, Anthony. King Odin is celebrating his sixtieth and has only the grandest ball planned. It’s a terrible inconvenience to cross the seas, but your mother and I cannot easily deny such an invitation,” the king answered, graver this time in tone. Tony nodded in solemn agreement. “We’ll be gone about three months, during which time Obadiah will help you handle the kingdom in my stead. You best listen to and take his advice.” Tony nodded again.

 

“Of course, father,” he agreed.

 

“Off you go then. Obi and I still have matters to discuss,” Howard shooed him away with a wave of his hand. Tony, after kissing his mother’s cheek, went without further word.

 

Beyond the two sentries at the door, he didn’t encounter anyone else as he walked through the halls until he arrived at his room where two members of his guard, Jasper and Happy, stood. He bade them a good evening and slipped through the doors.

 

His room was one of the largest in the castle (second only to his parents’ room), clean (save for one corner that contained his studies and that he had expressly forbade the servants from touching), and lit softly with candlelight, but he didn’t dwell on the comfort it presented, not when there were more interesting things happening tonight. He ignored the clothes spread out on the bed for now and, after making sure the window was unlocked, slipped into the en suite bath, stripping himself quickly of his clothes and sliding into the warm water.

 

He couldn’t help the delighted sigh that escaped as the water enfolded him, and his eyes slid shut to enjoy momentarily the relaxing heat. He didn’t want to linger too long, though, so when he had gotten his fill of the warmth, he set about scrubbing himself clean, anticipation propelling him to move faster than usual. Water sloshed over the sides of the tub from his activity, but it wasn’t his concern to clean it up. He climbed out of the bath a few minutes later, slipped on the robe that hung by the door, and allowed himself a quick glance into the mirror to make sure he looked deliciously moist before exiting the bath and finding his way back into his bedroom.

 

Where Steve stood by the window.

 

A grin lit up the prince’s face at Steve’s lust-darkened eyes, but neither made any move closer to the other. For quite a long moment, Tony waited for Steve’s approach, and when it didn’t seem to be forthcoming, he lifted a hand to the belt of his robe and undid it. Steve’s eyes never left his even as he allowed the robe to slide off his shoulders and pool around his ankles. Steve didn’t look away when Tony took one step to his right, climbed onto the bed, and settled himself in the middle. He didn’t even look away when Tony splayed himself open and lifted his arms over his head. It was almost disappointing, really, but then Steve spoke.

 

“Ask me,” he said simply. Tony nearly moaned from the words alone, but this was a game, a battle of wills, and he wasn’t going to lose.

 

“Ask you what,  _knight_?” he asked instead in a faux-haughty tone, daring and confident as if he wasn’t vulnerable in his nudity, as if he wasn’t begging for Steve’s touch with the way he was positioned. Steve quirked a grin, but as he moved closer to the bed to tower over Tony, his grin turned dark, sadistic. It was an altogether frightening and exhilarating sight, and Tony felt particularly vulnerable. He knew, however, without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would do  _nothing_  to hurt him; the vulnerability only added to the thrill he felt.

 

“Ask me,  _prince_ ,” Steve said lowly, “to take you however I wish.” He pressed a knee to the bed, dipping it as he shifted his weight onto it. “To touch you wherever I want.” He pressed his other knee and a palm to the bed. “To spread you open and pound you till you’re as loose as any prostitute on the street.” He crawled over, sinuously, like a stalking panther, stopping when he was hovering above the trembling genius. “Ask me to make you scream so that all the castle will know their darling little prince is nothing but a wanton whore for a common knight.”

 

Okay, so maybe Tony  _was_  going to lose this one.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” he moaned, arching up into the space between them enticingly. “All of that, yes.  _Please_.” Steve grinned once more and then dipped his head to kiss the pale, bared neck.

 

“Does that please you, little prince? That you’re regarded as nothing but my toy, my plaything, to be used only when I want and nothing more?”

 

“Yessss… Jesus Christ, Steve, yes…!”

 

“Blasphemy,” was Steve’s amused whisper before he pressed down against the writhing boy, pinning him from chest to groin to the bed.

 

……………

 

It wasn’t uncommon for Obadiah to bring his own knights when he stayed in the castle. Tony was well acquainted, in fact, with the captain, Raza, who always accompanied Obadiah on his trips. The man was tall and bald and imposing and clearly of foreign origins. He was kind enough to Tony and never impolite, but there was always a sinister feeling when he spoke.

 

It was that man who approached him in the gardens where he was testing out a small flare—his own design to improve on those the soldiers had right now that tended to explode when it got too hot.

 

“The archduke asks for you, Prince Anthony,” Captain Raza told him in that’s same politely cold tone after he had straightened from his bow. Tony sighed and nodded, leaving his experiment on the ground as he stood.

 

“Please ask Pepper to have someone bring my things to my workshop,” he instructed a nearby servant before he followed Raza into the castle and up to Obadiah’s appointed study where the archduke was perusing a book by the shelf.

 

“Anthony,” Obadiah said as soon as he stepped foot in the room. The door was shut behind them, and Tony watched Obadiah stroll about the room absently while reading the book he held in his hands. “You tutor has told me you’ve failed to show for your studies today. May I ask why?” Obadiah looked up at him and set the book down on the desk. Tony crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

 

“Maybe because she no longer has anything to offer me? I’m undeniably smarter than she can ever hope to be, archduke. Not that she was anything spectacular to begin with,” he answered.

 

“Of course you are, Anthony, and no one can deny it, but you must also understand that there are things in life that cannot be understood by sheer intelligence,” Obadiah returned, seating himself in the chair behind the desk as he regarded Tony with amused tolerance. “Your studies go further than mere science and arithmetic and writing. She is there to give you more experience in other more important matters, like lawmaking and taxation and politics and etiquette. These are necessary for your future as the next king of Stark.”

 

“I’m sixteen, Obadiah. I’m not taking over the throne yet. I’ll have plenty of time to learn those things,” Tony said. He was a little petulant, but really. He was designing better arms for his soldiers—wasn’t that of equal importance (or more!) to frivolities like court etiquette?

 

“We shouldn’t leave things like that to chance. You’ll never know when you might ascend to the throne, especially when your parents are out of the kingdom; you know their travel poses a greater threat to their lives than if they had stayed.”

 

“Then get me a better tutor!” Tony cried in exasperation. “Lady Indries is dim and incompetent, and I don’t think she understands what I’m saying half the time. I want that scientist from Gulmira… What was his name? Yinsen, I think. I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to teach me a thing or two—”

 

“You do  _not_  need a new tutor, Anthony,” Obadiah snapped, cutting Tony off, and rose from the chair. He was a big man and towered over the short prince easily. “Lady Indries is an intelligent member of my court and highly regarded as the best tutor in my duchy. She has been Ezekiel’s tutor for many years before I offered her services to your father who _agreed with me_ about her capacity to tutor you. She can provide you with the best education this kingdom has to offer, and if you do not understand that, maybe it is _you_ who has a learning difficulty and not she.” Tony gaped at him, affronted at the insinuation that he was dim when he was so very, _very_ far from that.

 

“I’ll be having words about this with my father when he gets back,” he finally said testily. “In the meantime, I refuse to participate in any more sessions with her. Do what you must.” Then he glared at the archduke and spun on his heel without saying further word. Before he could go any further, though, Obadiah grabbed him by the shoulder and jerked him around so that they could see eye-to-eye. The archduke’s eyes flashed dangerously.

 

“I’ve been installed here to watch over you and provide you guidance. How am I supposed to do such if you continue to ignore what I say and disrespect my authority?” he growled. Tony quickly overcame his surprise at the rough handling, although there was still a small amount of fear pooling in the pit of his stomach, and leveled him a glare.

 

“And I am your  _prince_ , archduke,” was all he said. Obadiah’s hand tightened on his shoulder briefly before he straightened out and led Tony out the door. The royal struggled minutely, but in the end decided there wasn’t anything he could do without turning the whole castle onto him, so he followed the not-so-subtle guidance of the archduke and his captain around familiar hallways. It wasn’t a path Tony usually took, but one he recognized with growing dread, and his struggles started anew.

 

“Where are you taking me?!” he demanded loudly. It was rhetorical because he knew they were headed to the dungeons. His yell went unheeded as there was a silence around them that implied that beyond their group of three, no other person was milling about to hear him. The fear in his stomach heightened into panic, and he readied himself to scream for help, but Obadiah’s grip tightened on his shoulder painfully, and he gasped instead.

 

“You will not be harmed, Anthony,” Obadiah said, which was ironic since his hand was doing precisely that. “As it is not my place or my will to do so. But you must understand that you cannot go unpunished for your transgressions for how will you learn from your mistakes?”

 

“Only you have committed any transgressions here, Stane, and if you value leniency, you will let me go and apologize!” Tony struggled against the older man until Raza felt that he needed to remind Tony to keep still. Tony froze at the nudging of the hilt of Raza’s sword in his side, and Obadiah made a noise of satisfaction.

 

“I’m glad you’re seeing it my way,” he said and led Tony down a flight of stairs and up to a wooden door. Tony had been down here precisely three times—once with his father who felt it necessary that he be educated on the contents of the castle and twice on his own for experimental purposes—so he wasn’t quite familiar with the place. Two of Obadiah’s guards stood in front of a door, and they saluted in greeting before one of them pushed the door open and gave them a view of what was inside: Steve facing them on his knees, naked and strung up by his wrists that were chained to the walls. His blue eyes blazed in anger, but he said and did nothing except bore holes into Obadiah’s head with his gaze.

 

Tony gasped in horror, jerking out of Obadiah’s grip and inadvertently into Raza’s chest. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, and when he did, he ran inside and pulled ineffectually at the chains.

 

“Let him go!” he yelled, but all six men—Steve, Obadiah, Raza, the two guards out front and the one inside—ignored him. “I demand that you let him go!” Tony repeated, still pulling at the chains before deciding it was futile and moving in search of the key or a hatchet or anything that could free the soldier. Obadiah pulled him by the back of his robes and held him at his side.

 

“You  _will_  continue to study under Lady Indries, won’t you, Anthony? And you’ll attend each lesson on time and ready, and you _will not question my authority on this_ ,” he said evenly.

 

“You are insane if you think I believe this is about her or what happened five minutes ago! You set this up!” Tony snapped. Then Obadiah carded his hand through Tony’s hair and jerked it back sharply so that they were eye-to-eye. Tears sprung to his eyes from the harsh pull, but Obadiah’s eyes were glittering with warning.

 

“I’ve known your father for over four decades,” he hissed. “He trusts me beyond anyone else in this goddamned world. Who do you think he’s going to believe when you tell him about these accusations? _You_? Or is he going to believe his closest advisor and friend when I tell him his son is a spoiled brat that needs to be disciplined and that this is the most effective way possible? Do you think he’s going to care that a lowly knight is scourged? Do you think he’s going to care that he’s your  _best friend_? When the future of the kingdom lies on his ability to suffer for your mistakes?”

 

“ _Yes_. He’s going to care about what I say,” Tony said with all confidence he did not possess. He would beg his father if need be, make promises he didn’t know if he could keep. The answer, though, did not seem to deter Obadiah who only grinned evilly, shark-like.

 

“How much do you wager he’d listen to you when he finds out that his only son, his heir to the throne, spreads his legs at every available opportunity and begs for this knight’s cock like a common street whore?” Tony’s blood ran cold. “That’s right,” Obadiah whispered. “He’s going to banish your pretty knight and marry you off to the best possible option. Maybe me if you’re lucky, but I’m still trying to decide whether or not I’m willing to settle for used goods.”

 

“You… you wouldn’t…” Tony whispered. Obadiah petted his hair.

 

“Of course I wouldn’t, Anthony. I’m not an unreasonable man. I only ask that you listen to my very sound advice because I do this for your own good!” And he made it sound like he  _did_. What was the harm, after all, in learning about taxation and court etiquette and politics? How would it hurt to learn it from Lady Indries Moomji rather than someone else? Obadiah was experienced and wise from his years; he certainly knew what he was doing, didn’t he? He wasn’t asking Tony to hand over the kingdom, just to learn from his tutelage.

 

“No, Tony! Don’t—AH!” A whistle was the only forewarning and then a crack of a whip was heard as it slashed over Steve’s back.

 

“Stop!” Tony screamed, jerking forward, but Obadiah’s hand was still in his hair, holding him in place. The guard did stop, though, looking to Obadiah for confirmation. The older man nodded just as Tony turned to him. “Why is this necessary? I promise, I _swear_  I’ll listen and take your advice. Please, Obadiah,” he begged. Obadiah hugged him.

 

“Shhh, little one,” he murmured gently. “This is only to encourage you remember your mistakes and avoid doing them again. Just so long as you’re obedient, he won’t be hurt, do you understand?” Tony nodded vigorously, but pulled back quickly enough because hugging Obadiah after everything he’d said and done made his skin crawl. “Good boy,” Obadiah said. “Now watch.” And then the whip cracked once more, wrenching a shout from Steve. His body jolted forward, trying to avoid the source of pain, but the chains held him in place.

 

It cracked a third time and a fourth time and a fifth time, and on the fifth, the tears that Tony had been holding in finally fell silently. The guard continued to strike Steve’s back, ten times, twenty times until Steve’s throat was hoarse from shouting. Even from the front, Tony could see blood sliding down his thighs. His arms were decorated too with drips of blood from where the manacles cut into his skin.

 

On the twenty third stroke, Tony choked a sob and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle it.

 

On the thirtieth, the whips stopped.

 

Obadiah pulled his face back up to look into it, and Tony could see his eyes alighting at his tear-streaked face.

 

“What have we learned, Anthony?” Dutifully, he responded.

 

“That I’m—I’m to attend all classes with Lady Indries, on time and prepared.”

 

“And that we won’t be letting your father know about this.”

 

“And that I won’t tell my father,” he mimicked in a defeated tone. Obadiah released him and allowed him to bow his head.

 

“Or anyone else.”

 

“Or anyone else,” he copied quietly, almost in a whisper. Obadiah patted his head.

 

“Good boy,” he said and walked out the door with nary a stutter in his step.

 

As soon as the door shut, Tony fell to his knees in front of Steve whose head hung low. He cupped both cheeks and tilted his head up, kissing him frantically and apologizing into his mouth.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,  _I’m sorry_.”

 

“Not—” Steve hissed in pain, arching slightly, when his arms were freed, and they jostled his torn back. “It’s not your fault, Tony,” he finally managed to whisper through gritted teeth. And Tony wanted him to take back his words because ‘Tony’ was the name he whispered into his skin in the dark of the night, the name he murmured when he told him he loved him, the name he used with a teasing tone and fond amusement. Not like this. Never like this. He said nothing. “Not your fault,” Steve added. “You don’t get to blame yourself.” But Tony ignored him, pulling him into his lap, no matter that he got blood all over his robes.

 

“Get me a washcloth and clean water!” the prince snapped at Obadiah’s knight who looked annoyed at being ordered, but went for what was asked anyway. “I’m sorry, Steve,” he repeated when they were alone. Steve tugged him down for a kiss.

 

“Still not your fault,” he said. “I’ll sort this out, don’t worry.” He kissed him again. “In the meantime, try not to piss the bastard off, okay?” Tony choked out a laughed, and then a sob, and then kissed Steve again and emptied the rest of his apology into his mouth.

 

……………

 

“The Commander is asking after you, you know,” Bucky told Steve later that evening. Steve wandered into his room from the bathroom, dressed in his underclothes where he would have already shed his shirt in the summer heat. He tried not to make each pull of pain in his back obvious and especially tried not to make them bleed again, but Bucky knew what he was looking for. Of course he knew because Natasha was sitting beside him on his bed, uncaring of the fact that she would be reprimanded for being in the men’s barracks should she be caught by an officer (although very few officers had the guts to reprimand her, anyway, not when she held the secrets of their souls in her hands, and of those that did have the guts to reprimand her, none would bother because she had her ways of endearing herself to them).

 

“Yes, I know,” he answered indifferently as he discreetly tucked the bloodstained shirt he had just rinsed out in the hamper to hide it from his friends. The maids were going to find it and assume it was a training injury, but Bucky and Natasha would know for sure. Bucky was waiting for a follow up but he wasn’t going to give one. Steve knew he had completely botched sparring practice today, allowing Dum Dum— _Dum Dum_  who had the elegance of a bull in a dress—to disarm him  _thrice_  when he had never even come close to doing so before. But whiplashes, as he found out, hurt worse after several hours than they did when they were served.

 

“And?” Bucky prompted.

 

“And she need not worry about me. I’m fine; I just… sprained my wrist.” It was a lame excuse and he knew that they knew it was because Natasha looked to be on the verge of laughing and Bucky had an ‘are you honestly  _that_  stupid?’ look on his face.

 

“I’ve seen you take down twenty men with your shield, a broken arm and an arrow in your thigh. What happened today? It was like that, only worse because we  _weren’t on a battlefield_ ,” his friend said. Steve ignored him and puttered around the room, trying to avoid their interrogation, but lacking anything real to do.

 

“Is there something you needed, Buck?” he eventually sighed when all they did was to wait patiently. Maybe he could just kick them out. God knows he deserved to be rude some of the time.

 

“Can you please just talk to me?” Bucky’s voice was pleading, but it only made Steve angry. What did he expect him to say? That Obadiah fucking Stane had his ass whipped because Tony wanted a new tutor? That would lead to more questions and more interest, and Stane had made it perfectly clear that if any of this got back to the king, there was going to be hell to pay.

 

“Can we please  _stop talking about this_? I know you already know because Natasha can’t keep her nose out of other people’s fucking business!” he snapped, angry. He whirled around to glare at the both of them. Bucky didn’t deny it and even went so far as to look away guiltily. “It goes no farther than him,” Steve warned the spy, who lifted her chin against his glare, daring him—to do what, Steve wasn’t sure. “And you’ll put a stop to all rumors about it,” he added. She could, of course, and easily at that; she just had to apply her silver tongue to make heads turn the other way.

 

“You could just ask for his highness in marriage,” she pointed out, and Steve clenched his hands into fists. She didn’t have to tell him; he wanted to— _oh how he wanted to_ —but who was he to ask for the crown prince’s hand? He was merely a sickly orphan who happened to attract the interest of a physician looking for a test subject. He was merely a knight who only received his papers because of his father’s connections. How could he compare to the rich aristocracy of the people who surrounded Tony everyday? How could he win against the children of potential political alliances?

 

It was simple really: he couldn’t.

 

He had Tony for the time being, and that was enough. He only had to protect what he had, not fight for things he didn’t or couldn’t have.

 

“Stay out of it,” he said, turning away again. “Please,” he pleaded. They said nothing, but Steve could hear Natasha approaching. She grasped at the hem of his shirt and prompted him to take it off. She knew, Bucky knew, so there was really no point in hiding them from his friends anymore. He lifted his arms over his head, hissing when they pulled his back, and pulled the shirt off. Bucky whistled low, and Natasha traced the clean skin around the lines.

 

“How many?” she asked.

 

“Thirty,” Steve answered, and then there was a moment’s pause before a hiss was pulled from his mouth when a cool salve was spread over a handful of lines. The substance stung his wounds slightly, and her fingers, no matter how carefully they were applied, pressed painfully against each one, but he suffered through it to the image of Tony smiling in his mind. And when his entire back was covered and he heard her recapping the pot, he turned back around with a sigh and an apology on his lips.

 

Except that he found Tony standing in his doorway, partially covered by a cloak and hood.

 

“Anthony,” he breathed out. The prince pushed the hood back and threw himself forward into the knight’s chest. Apologies fell from his mouth over and over again as if he hadn’t already apologized a thousand times before. Steve shook his head to clear it and lifted Tony’s chin to silence him with a kiss. His mouth was pliant and warm beneath his own, and Steve couldn’t help but moan his pleasure into it. Tony, urged by the sounds pushed into his mouth, threw his arms around Steve’s neck.

 

And wrenched a pained cry from him.

 

“AH—!” Steve cried out before he managed to stifle the rest of it, but Tony had already pulled back, horrified at having cause another bout of pain.

 

“I’m sorry!” he apologized, stepping out of reach when Steve tried for him, but the knight managed to snag him close and hug him at the next step.

 

“Stop apologizing… Stop. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, haven’t I said this before?” he murmured.

 

“But it is. If I hadn’t been so adamant—”

 

“ _No_ , sweetheart,” Steve cut him off. “This happened because Stane is a bastard, not because you were wrong in wanting a new tutor.” He tipped Tony’s chin up and kissed him softly. “I’d endure a hundred lashes and a hundred more to keep you safe and happy, understand?” Tony nodded and then turned to Natasha, Bucky and Rhodey and Pepper, who had accompanied Tony there.

 

“Might I ask for a few minutes alone?” he asked. None of them even thought to protest as they exited the room (though Steve knew they would be standing guard outside), but he lost track of them as soon as Tony guided him back to sit on the bed. Then his throat closed up when the prince sank to his knees in front of him. His hand was placed on the inside of Steve’s thigh to push it aside. With his other hand, he fumbled with the drawstring of Steve’s pants.

 

This wasn’t the first time Tony would use his mouth on him—far from it really—but the memory of each instance made the breath in his lungs stutter, and the sight of Tony on his knees, submissive to him, gave him the same feeling of being drunk. It was a powerful position, even done in love, to have one’s monarch on his knees before you, eager to see to your pleasure beyond his own. Steve would never— _could_  never take advantage of that, but the thought nonetheless thrilled him when he acknowledged it.

 

“Tony…” Steve murmured.

 

“Let me,” Tony whispered, his breath washing warm over Steve’s erection. Steve cupped his cheek and tugged him close, not forcing him, but letting him know he had given his consent.

 

He moaned as soon as Tony’s mouth closed over him. It hadn’t changed since their kiss a few minutes ago: still warm and pliant and yielding to Steve. Tony sucked his cock in once, as far as it would go, and then released it just as quickly, a preview, a teaser for what was yet to come. The prince’s hand grasped the base, pulling it lower to make it more accessible to him and licked the tip once to clean off its precome. He licked it again a second time, and then a third before licking his way up and down the shaft. When he sucked it in once more, longer and more meaningful this time, he stroked what he couldn’t reach with his hand.

 

Steve spoke because Tony liked it when he did. It was a quirk he would always be willing to indulge his lover in.

 

“So perfect,” he murmured, tracing the lips that were stretched by his girth. “Seeing you enjoy that so much.” Tony whimpered in response and sucked him harder, enthused by his words. “People all over the kingdom, your subjects, they kneel in your presence to beg for your favor and see to your pleasure, but they don’t know that this…  _this_  is where you want to be: kneeling before me, and begging for my favor and seeing to mine.” Tony made a broken noise of agreement and bobbed up and down his length, sucking and fondling and pleasuring him to the extent of his capability. He needn’t have had to, really, because even the barest of his efforts was enough to please Steve to the ends of his wits.

 

“You can spill from this. Just this, my cock in your mouth and nothing else,” Steve continued, carding his hands through Tony’s hair to aid his movements. "I want to see you come, my beautiful prince. Will you come for me?" Tony moaned in answer, shutting his eyes almost automatically as he took Steve in as far as he would go. The knight groaned and used the grip in his hair as an anchor for when he thrust up into the orifice, minutely at first through Tony's encouraging moans. He stood up to gain better leverage then continued to thrust harder and faster until he was fucking his prince's mouth like he would his ass. Tony whimpered and moaned around him, relaxing his body and giving himself to the thrusts, allowing Steve to take him only exactly as he wanted. He choked around the cock that forced its way into his throat and gagged when it withdrew, but he was so much harder than he had ever been before.

 

" _Come_ , Anthony," Steve ordered harshly in time with a thrust. "Take my cock and  _come_." Tony whimpered high in his throat as he couldn't help but comply, jerking his hips as he spilled into his pants, untouched. Steve thrust into his mouth one last time, the thought of Tony coming undone beneath him sending him over the edge. The prince sucked him down obediently, but a trickle of come managed to spill from the corner of his lips. With a strangled grunt, Steve hauled him to his feet, licked the stripe of come off his chin, and kissed him harshly, fucking his mouth with his tongue and erasing all traces of him in his lover's mouth.

 

They pulled apart and pressed their foreheads against each other, breathing in deeply and slowly. Then Steve hugged Tony against his chest and pressed his lips to the top of his head.

 

"I love you, darling," he confessed. Tony's grip in his clothes tightened.

 

"I know. I love you too."

 

……………

 

Tony found his way the next day to his study where Lady Indries was already present and seemingly ready to begin his class. They were covering politics today with particular focus on taxation. It wasn’t his favorite subject, much preferring science more than anything, but he wasn’t unfamiliar with the concepts and numbers always interested him anyway. In fact, he’d even go so far as to say he was well versed on it after having read up during his free time, and what he didn’t know he knew, based on previous experience in other fields of study, that he could deduce fairly quickly from even just a short conversation.

 

As such, he arrived in the study on time and ready to begin his lessons, as Obadiah had requested (ordered).

 

As the lesson drew on, though, it became increasingly evident that Lady Indries was simply reciting almost verbatim what she had learned from books and possibly from her own tutors that were most likely bookish, traditionalist scholars. She had very little idea of how what she was talking about applied to the current situation of the kingdom and how it could be adapted, revised or altogether replaced to better fit what was needed. It frustrated Tony to no end because she wouldn’t accept his points and the fact that Tony seemed to understand the subject more than she did.

 

“It’s the common practice of many kingdoms in both past and present and many of the members or our court are willing to fund it,” she was explaining about supplementing potential budget deficits. Howard, more than anything, was an economist. Unlike other monarchies, he had his budget under control and wasn’t in trouble of accruing any deficits in the near future especially since he understood how war drained an economy. As such, he was also an accidental pacifist. However, war could be avoided for only so long, and the subject was relevant and necessary because in such times, deficits would be inevitable and a future king should know how to handle it.

 

“That is undeniable. However, how effective do you think it is that you are suggesting to me that I too should employ such methods? Borrowing money against future tax revenues will only force us into trouble. Do you honestly think it would be paid off without decent alternate revenue? Why on Earth do you think the Shostakova monarchy is struggling with their nobility?” he asked in incredulity.

 

“The Shostakova monarchy has done so _successfully_ by copying Shaw’s example and raising their taxes temporarily,” the lady shot back. Tony only laughed long and loud. He was trying to be insulting and seemed to succeed. Lady Indries scrunched her face up in affront, prompting Tony into another round of laughter.

 

“The people of Shaw beheaded their king, if you remember?” he pointed out through giggles. “How long will it take for the people of Shostakova to do so when they realize that the monarchy has no plans of lowering the taxes again?”

 

“Well since you know so much about it, how would you handle a budget deficit in times of war?” she demanded huffily.

 

“Okay.” Tony’s eyes gleamed with mischief and intelligence, a fearsome combination. “Let me explain to you how simple it really is: simply raising taxes won’t work. Do you know why? Because peasants have a fixed threshold that is both economic and psychological in nature. There will come a time when they just  _cannot_  and  _will not_  pay any more taxes. The closer we get to that threshold, the greater the risk of an uprising borne of discontent, poverty, starvation, what have you. At the same time, the government cannot simply do nothing because it needs to increase its revenue to supplement the budget deficit.” He paused for dramatic effect. “So how do we reconcile two opposing concepts?” He gave another pause, this time to allow her to redeem herself in his eyes. He had already given her the answer; all she had to do was glean it from his statement. She only gave him a blank look, though, which made Tony all the more frustrated.

 

“We raise that threshold,” he said with an aggrieved sigh. “We assist the peasants in earning more such that they are able to pay more. Encourage exports, raise tariffs on imports, improve processes and economize capacities. Production is the key to a flourishing economy, Lady Indries.  _Production_.” Sudden understanding dawned on her face like a rising sun, which pleased Tony because the solution was really so simple that it was laughable. But then he opened his mouth again and made a dark look cross her face. “ _Really_. Any fool could have deduced that.” She shot to her feet, sent him a poisonous glare and stomped out of the study. He watched her go with satisfaction and then pulled the nearest textbook closer to him.

 

……………

 

Obadiah found him two hours later. He loomed ominously in the doorway of his workshop, a grave and disappointed look on his face.

 

Dread and fear and terror rushed through Tony when he caught sight of the older man because he knew,  _he knew_  what was going to happen. He tried to feign indifference, but his hands that held a pick and iron plating stilled its actions.

 

“Hello, archduke. What brings you here?” he said, trying for casual but coming out strangled. Obadiah entered the room, his long, brocade robe flowing around him regally, and stopped beside Tony at his desk.

 

“Lady Virginia,” the archduke said without having to turn in her direction. Pepper stood with unacknowledged ease and grace, but worry decorated her eyes when she looked between Tony and Obadiah.

 

“How may I be of assistance, archduke?” she asked, her tone implying that ‘I’d rather stay if it’s all the same.’

 

“I need a moment alone with Anthony. If you could step outside?” It was an order disguised as a question and Pepper looked like she wanted to protest, but Tony shook his head minutely, just enough for her to tighten her mouth and curtsy in acquiescence. The door slid shut behind her, and a heavy hand landed on the prince’s shoulder. Tony flinched but didn’t pull away even when the fingers of the hand curled and pressed into his skin, a forewarning.

 

“I was very busy today, Anthony, settling important matters your father neglected to do before he rushed away to socialize with King Odin and his court,” came Obadiah’s cold voice. Tony tried not to shiver, but a tremor still ran through him. “So imagine my displeasure of having to entertain a hysterical lady who had come to see me about being humiliated and offended by her charge.”

 

“If she was humiliated and offended, it was only of her own doing,” Tony answered. “I was simply demonstrating my knowledge on the subject, of which you had told me to come prepared for. If I happened to have more knowledge than her, well, that is no one’s fault but her own.”

 

“She says she was told, and I quote, ‘Any fool could have deduced that,’” Obadiah put in, ignoring most of what Tony had said. The prince said nothing because he  _had_  said that in the intention it was taken for. Obadiah hummed in thought. “I think you know why I’m here,” he said.

 

“That’s not fair,” Tony tried again, his voice small, because it really wasn’t. Sure he had meant to insult her, but it was such a small thing being blown out of proportion like this. He made sure to say so, which darkened Obadiah’s eyes and tightened his grip.

 

“Do not  _test_  me, Anthony,” he warned. “You have been insubordinate and insulting toward your tutor, toward a lady of stature. Tell me that should go unpunished.”

 

“Then punish  _me_! Archduke, please!” Tony cried. “I’ll apologize to her a thousand times, and everyday thereafter! And I swear to God to never do it again! Please, Obadiah!”

 

“You  _are_  being punished, don’t you remember?” Obadiah lifted an eyebrow. “ _This_  is your punishment. This  _will be_  your punishment for every one of your transgressions, the gravity of which will dictate the number of lashes Steven will receive, from now until I relinquish your tutelage to your father. If you do not wish to see him beaten, you will do your best to produce output that meets my satisfaction. Are we clear?” Tony searched his eyes for a sign, for a glimmer of mercy, but he found nothing, so he only bowed his head in understanding and defeat.

 

“Yes,” he whispered. The grip on his shoulder tightened and forced him to his feet.

 

“Come, then,” Obi prompted and led him out the door.

 

“Your highness,” Pepper started in question from where she stood beside Happy and Jasper at the door. Tony looked up.

 

“Stay here, Virginia. The archduke and I have business to attend to,” he said easily without prompting. All three of his people looked concerned for a moment more, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from their liege, so she nodded and watched while Tony and Obadiah made their way through the winding corridors and down to the dungeons.

 

Tony knew what to expect this time around, so it wasn’t a surprise to see Steve kneeling on the ground, strung up by his wrists. Beside him stood the guard who held what was slowly becoming the bane of Tony’s existence in his hands: the knout, long and thin and steel tipped, whose sole purpose was to maim his lover’s back. Tony jerked forward involuntarily, only to be held back by Obadiah’s hand. Steve’s eyes found his, and he tried to give a reassuring smile which only broke Tony’s heart further. The genius turned to Obadiah with wide imploring eyes.

 

“Please,” he begged once more. “Please, archduke, he hasn’t healed yet. He hasn’t—Forgive me,  _please_ , it won’t happen again, I swear on my life.”

 

“Tell him why he’s being punished, Anthony,” Obadiah said evenly, not meeting Tony’s gaze in favor of observing the scene before them with what looked a lot like satisfaction.

 

And pride.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Tony tried again, and Obadiah nodded once. A second later, the whip cracked, and Steve shouted. Tony’s head whipped around so fast to see how Steve fared. The knight’s head was dipped low and his shoulders heaved a breath, but he looked back up soon enough, glaring venomously at the archduke.

 

“Tell him, Anthony,” Obadiah repeated, and Tony didn’t think to refuse him again. He sought Steve’s eyes and stuttered out his answer.

 

“I—I insulted the Lady Indries.”

 

“And?”

 

“And I… I—” Tony was genuinely stumped. He looked up at Obadiah who tutted and shook his head.

 

“You pulled me away from important work and questioned my authority,” he explained, and it wasn’t fair—it _wasn’t_ —but Tony only hung his head and nodded once. “And how many lashes do you think he deserves for that?” Tony snapped his head up in surprise. He was being allowed to  _choose_? He scrambled for an answer, knowing that anything too low would possibly anger the man, but not wanting to give anything too high either. ‘ _I’m sorry,_ ’ he mouthed at Steve who only shook his head.

 

“Ten,” he said, tensing to hear the crack of the whip.

 

“Ten for each transgression,” Obadiah corrected, ripping from Tony a noise of protest that was drowned by the smack of leather against flesh. Steve shouted again, bowing away from the lash in an attempt to minimize the impact (which didn’t help, really, not in any way discernible way). Tony slapped a hand over his own mouth as the first ten strikes were dealt out to muffle his own protests and whimpers. His eyes were wide in sympathetic pain and brimming with pained tears that fell as the first drip of blood did, earlier this time than the last.

 

The next twenty lashes were dealt out methodically and consistently, leaving Steve wrung out and weak in pain, and Tony fraught with despair. There was the same number of lashes today, but they seemed worse as they pulled open the barely healed ones from yesterday. The knight hung from his chains, his head dropped and his body shaking, and Tony wanted to do nothing else except wrap him in his arms and relieve his ails.

 

At the last one, he wrestled himself away from Obadiah’s grip, but the archduke simply tightened his hand impossibly, wrenching a cry and driving Tony to his knees, then held him at his feet by his hair.

 

“And another ten,” he said easily.

 

“What?! Why?!” Tony cried, pulling at the hand in his hair in an effort to get to Steve who was yelling himself hoarse once more.

 

“For being out of bed and in the soldier barracks late last evening,” Obadiah explained simply. Tony felt fresh tears track they way down his face as Steve was put at the mercy of the whip once more. The second set passed more quickly than the first, but it felt like a lifetime before they were done. Tony had only realized it was so when Obadiah released him, but he didn’t question it and scrambled over to Steve without bothering to stand and dust himself off first. He cupped Steve’s face and kissed him again and again and again until the other man was responsive against his mouth.

 

“ _I’m sorry_ ,” Tony sobbed. “I didn’t mean to—I’m so,  _so_  sorry.” He pressed his face into the base of Steve’s neck, mindful of the lashes that crept over his shoulder, and cried.

 

“Shhh,” Steve murmured, his voice wrecked. “Stop crying, darling, please stop crying.” He didn’t pull Tony into his arms and hug him, and Tony, bereft of that comfort, looked up to find that they had been left alone without having released him. He hiccupped a last sob and looked around for the key to find it hanging by the door. He stumbled over to it and grabbed it off the hook to release Steve’s wrists from their chains. When he was free, Steve twisted his hands to relieve the ache in his wrists, ignoring the blood there for the meantime, and allowed Tony to pull him close. The prince kissed him again, full of sincere apology and regret. “I know,” Steve whispered. “It’s still not your fault, Tony. Don’t cry.”

 

“We—” Tony hiccupped. “We should get you cleaned up. There’s a bedroom nearby. We can—” Steve kissed him again, presumably to shut him up.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go get cleaned up.” Tony helped him to his feet and into his pants, leaving his shirt off for the moment.

 

“Stay here,” he instructed and left him seated and a bit confused on a nearby chair. Tony ran to the door and from there upstairs and into the hallway only to crash almost literally into Natasha who was striding purposefully toward the stairs. The spy caught him before he could topple over and righted him just as Pepper and Bucky caught up with them.

 

“Are you okay, Tony?” Pepper asked, pulling him closer to her and inspecting him for possible damage. Her voice was more worried than her face let on, and Tony was infinitely grateful for it.

 

“I’m fine,” he assured her, though he continued to allow her to look him over. “I promise I’m fine, Pepper, but I may need some help downstairs.” Natasha’s lips tightened.

 

“Is Steve still down there?” she asked. Pepper looked between the two of them, then to Bucky for confirmation, but the soldier only looked livid. Tony nodded. “Pepper, would you kindly bring some water down?” Natasha said, and waited to see Pepper nod and hurry off before leading the way down into the dungeon. When they entered the room, her mouth set into an even grimmer line, and Bucky looked apoplectic at the sight of blood on the ground and on Steve. Tony ignored them for the time being in favor of throwing himself at Steve who pulled him onto his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Natasha walked around to inspect his back and hissed in sympathy.

 

“How many?” she asked. Steve grimaced.

 

“Forty,” he said and winced when Natasha pushed at the skin beside one to inspect how deep it is.

 

“Ow! Can you not do that?” Steve complained. Tony lifted his head to reprimand Natasha for bothering Steve, but then a gasp from the doorway stopped his words in his throat.

 

“ _Steve_?!” Pepper rushed over, depositing a pitcher of water and a goblet onto a nearby table almost carelessly and rounding Steve to inspect his back as well. Tony had to dart forward to catch the pitcher before it toppled over. She made a sympathetic and vaguely alarmed noise at the sight of Steve’s back. “Dear lord, what in the world happened? Who did this?” Steve grimaced, but said nothing, so Pepper turned to Natasha.

 

“The archduke,” she answered, “seemed to think that it was his duty to teach his highness a lesson and decided that this was the best way to correct him.” Pepper’s alarm turned into disbelief and the beginnings of rage.

 

“He had you _whipped_ to punish Tony?!” she gaped in disbelief and affront, then rounded on Tony who was pouring water into the goblet. “ _What did you do_?” Her suspicion was not unfounded as Tony had been the cause of many a furor around the castle, and the prince paled at Pepper’s question, remembering once more that he was the reason behind Steve’s whippings.

 

“That’s enough, Pepper,” Steve said before Tony could get any word in. He reached out to take Tony’s free hand and pull him back onto his lap. “Not an ounce of this was his fault, and I will thank you to remember that.” Pepper pursed her lips, but after a moment, she nodded her head and sent an apologetic glance to Tony. Tony choked back another apology to Steve in favor of bringing the goblet up to his lips.

 

“Here,” he said, his voice raw. When he had his fill, Steve gently took the goblet and put it down, then looked up at his lover.

 

“I’m not an invalid yet, darling prince,” he teased gently, stroking Tony’s cheek. A quirk was on his lips, which shouldn’t have been because he had just gotten fucking  _whipped_. Tony felt like he wanted to cry, and Steve seemed to sense that because he pulled Tony closer and hugged him.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Tony apologized again, burying his face in Steve’s neck. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

 

“Shhh,” Steve hushed. “I’ve had worse than this, love. Don’t cry, please.” He held Tony close, whispering reassurances and pressing kisses to his face until Tony stopped vibrating with choked back emotion and he was able to lift his head. He scrubbed away the unshed tears from his eyes and turned to the others.

 

“We need to get him upstairs to get cleaned up,” Tony said, all puffy eyes and pleading tone. “There should be a bedroom down the hall from the stairs. I can’t get him there on my own, not without anyone seeing. Obadiah’s guards helped me yesterday, but it seemed they didn’t think to bother today.”

 

“Still not an invalid. I can walk on my own,” Steve thought they should know, but he was ignored as Tony climbed off his lap and Natasha helped him pull his shirt carefully over the broken skin of his back. The blood immediately stained it red, but Bucky pulled off his coat, which was made of much thicker material, and handed it over.

 

“Maybe you should take a mission to the borders while the king is out of the kingdom,” he suddenly suggested, speaking for the first time since they’d come. Steve whipped a glare at him before glancing at Tony then back at him.

 

“No,” he said firmly. Bucky looked to say something, so Steve cut him off. “ _No_ ,” he repeated. “I’m not leaving his highness unprotected. How long do you think it would take before Stane decides to risk inflicting this on him?”

 

“Harming the prince is treason. He wouldn’t do it.” Bucky was confident enough because it was true.

 

“He would if he knew Anthony would never tell.”

 

“Then take away his insurance! Tell the king!” Bucky’s voice was nearly shrill, and Tony understood why, he really did because if Bucky loved Steve as a friend half as much as he did as a lover, then it didn’t take a genius to wonder why he looked borderline homicidal by now.

 

“You know I can’t do that,” Steve snarled, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I—”

 

“He’s right,” Tony interrupted quietly. All four sets of eyes turned to him, but Tony only had eyes for one of them. “You should take that assignment away from here, and I—I’ll tell my father what’s been happening in his absence. You shouldn’t have to suffer for me. It’s not—I can’t see you like this.” Steve bolted out of the chair to catch Tony’s face in his hands and hold on to him tightly.

 

“Is that what you  _want_?” he demanded. His voice was tight with emotion Tony couldn’t begin to parse through. “Do you want to give this up? To give  _us_  up so easily?”

 

“I want—” Tony managed to start before Steve cut him off with a kiss that was brutal in its sincerity. He ravaged the prince’s mouth with ferocious intensity until Tony could only hold on as he drowned in its passion.

 

“Not even a thousand more of these lashes would convince me to leave,” Steve said with conviction. “I’d agree to this everyday until the day I die if it meant I could keep you, but tell me that you no longer want me, and I’ll go.” Tony bit his lip to hold his tears at bay before he pressed his face into Steve’s neck.

 

“I can’t,” he admitted. Steve hugged him tight, holding him for a minute more, for forever, until Natasha put a hand on an unmarked part of his shoulder.

 

“Pepper and I will divert any people down the corridor while his highness and Bucky can walk you to the room,” she said. “We’ll bring the both of you there a change of clothes and some salve.” Steve nodded and released Tony only far enough so they could walk easily. He lifted the hand that was clasped in his own and kissed it gently. ‘I love you,’ the kiss said and Tony gave him a watery smile that said ‘I love you’ back.

 

……………

 

The trip from the dungeons to the nearest bedroom (a lesser guest bedroom) was uneventful with Natasha and Pepper manning the corridors. The same couldn't be said when they had gotten inside the room, though.

 

It was barren, stripped of everything but the mattress and sheer curtains because the staff had not been instructed to prepare it. They sat Steve down on the bed before Tony rushed into the bathroom, presumably to set it up. It would have been a short, rather boring wait if not for the fact that Tony had absolutely no idea how to go about it. It was rather funny really, and Steve found himself chuckling several times at the prince's colorful curses.

 

"I haven't actually prepared a bath before," Tony finally admitted, trudging back into the room, the hem of his robe and pants inexplicably soaked. Even in light of everything that had happened not even an hour before, Steve couldn't help but laugh rather hysterically. Even Bucky was hard pressed to keep his mirth under wraps. Tony pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, suffering through it until their laughter crossed the one-minute mark. "Are you quite done?" Steve wiped a tear of laughter from his eye and held his arms out to the teenager. Tony huffed, but didn't hesitate to curl up into his lap.

 

"I don’t think a bath is necessary. Bucky will be able to get what we need from the bathroom," Steve told him gently, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead before kissing him. Bucky took that as his cue to salute casually and see what he could do about supplies. Tony straightened up and pressed back against Steve’s mouth, drawing the kiss deeper, and Steve grasped the back of his neck and his waist and pulled him closer as his tongue plundered the prince's mouth and earned a muffled moan.

 

“Now _that_ is a view I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching,” they heard someone say, making them jump apart to see that Natasha and Pepper had returned with provisions. Amused grins were on their faces as they walked in and shut the door behind them. Tony blushed and hid his face in Steve's neck, but Steve only chuckled and kissed his hair. Bucky returned with a basin of water and set it down on the nearby desk.

 

“I’ll stand watch outside,” he offered. Steve nodded a thanks and watched him go.

 

“Let’s take your shirt off, Steve,” Natasha instructed, tapping Steve’s bicep for emphasis.

 

“And you,” Pepper said to Tony. “As much as I know you love watching Steve undress, I think you should go change.” Tony glared at her, but he didn’t deny her statement and allowed her to march him into the bathroom, bearing with her a change of his clothes. When they were gone, Natasha helped Steve out of his jacket and shirt. The blood on Steve's back had crusted slightly in some places, making Steve wince when they were tugged at. She cleaned the blood off gently with a washcloth, and by the time she was done, the water in the basin was already a deep red.

 

"He adores you," the spy noted. She applied a salve and dressed the wounds meticulously, earning a few winces here and there, but no more. "I don't know if I should feel nauseous or delighted at your constant displays of love and affection."

 

"But those of the sexual nature appeal to you, surely?" She stopped her work and adopted a grave tone.

 

"I would give my right arm to be able to watch you debauch his highness," she agreed seriously. Steve only laughed.

 

"Haven't you?" Tony asked when he and Pepper came back into the room. He meant it sarcastically, but Natasha winked at him, and he ended up blushing instead.

 

"I have met quite a few subtle people in my life, highness, those that I can never figure out even if I were to observe them all day long," she said casually. "You, unfortunately, are not one of them; I could figure you out in an instant. But, to answer your question, no. No, I haven’t watched Steven debauch you. Yet." Tony grinned.

 

"And what have you figured out about me?" he asked. Pepper elbowed him, and Natasha laughed.

 

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" was her response. The genius shrugged.

 

"You already know what Steven and I do  _in the privacy of our bedroom_ ," he said with heavy emphasis. She didn’t look the least bit chastised (if anything, she looked almost smug), and Steve's heart fluttered at the casual "our." "We know that you know, and I don’t think there’s anything you can tell Pepper about me that would scandalize her, so you might as well." Natasha smirked.

 

"I know that you like submitting to him," she said, checking Steve's neatly wrapped back carefully. "And I know that he likes staking his claim on you." That was all she said, but it summed up their sexual preferences almost perfectly. Tony grinned through an uncontrolled blush, and Steve saw in his eyes the exact moment he considered taking Natasha up on her offer for an audience.

 

He could understand the appeal in doing so. Natasha was a beautiful lady, even at six years his senior; her presence was never a hardship on the eyes. And the thought of demonstrating to others just how completely Tony belonged to him, showing off just how much he craved Steve’s touches and affection, it clawed at Steve’s gut like an addiction he never realized he had.

 

But no—Tony was his and his alone to see (and touch and hear and taste).

 

“ _No_ , Tony,” he said gently. He didn’t like denying his lover anything, but he wasn’t ready to share him just yet. Tony, predictably, pouted. “Maybe,” Steve amended. Okay, so maybe he was a bit of a wimp. “But definitely not now. We should go.” He stood and grabbed the clean shirt and jacket off of the bed, not bothering to change his pants.

 

"Your back’s stable for now,” Natasha said as she packed up the supplies. “But it isn't going to be enough forever. You need to see a physician, Steven."

 

"I can't go to Pym," Steve said, referring to the back-up royal physician for when Erskine was travelling with the king. "He'll inform the king in an instant."

 

“And I can’t keep patching you up forever. I have field training on injuries, but you of all people should know that’s only a temporary solution,” she said. And she was right, really. Steve sighed and thought about whom he could approach with it.

 

“Oh, of course!” he suddenly remembered. “I could talk to Bruce.” Bruce Banner, his father’s apprentice, was older than he by about four years, but had begun his apprenticeship under his father later in life (only a few years now). He’d had previous medical training but had to discontinue it while he traveled across the kingdom. He never did say for what reason, and Steve had never bothered to find out, but Bruce had always struck him as incredibly trustworthy with his quiet demeanor and earnest eyes. Natasha’s approving nod only strengthened his conviction.

 

“Hey,” Bucky said, coming back in. “We should be on our way. Training starts in a moment.” Then he paused and frowned. “Are you going to be okay?” Steve rolled his shoulders. It was going to hurt most certainly, but he hoped the bandages would be enough to keep any blood from soaking his shirt.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he answered, though he couldn’t be perfectly sure. He caught sight of Tony’s worried look, but the prince was able to speak before he could ward off an apology.

 

“I'm sorry,” Tony whispered for the umpteenth time, so Steve sighed heavily and covered his mouth with his palm.

 

“Never apologize for this,” he said. “You're allowed to make mistakes; you’re allowed to not be perfect—although how anyone could even begin to think you aren’t, I can never understand.” Behind his palm, Tony smiled bashfully. “Stane is wrong to punish you for all them. Just… just stay true to yourself. I don’t care who tells you otherwise. That's all I ask." Tony paused for a span of five seconds and then nodded. Then a mischievous spark entered his eye, and Steve felt his tongue lave over the palm of his hand. He let out an incomprehensible sound, which made Natasha and Pepper exchange an amused glance. “Stop that,” Steve reprimanded. It was half-hearted though, but Tony didn’t call him out on it, allowing him instead to pull him into his arms.

 

Their mouths slotted together perfectly, parting as soon as they touched. Steve slid his hand around the base of Tony’s skull, in a nook that seemed to be created especially for him, while Tony lifted himself up on the balls of his feet to push back. It didn’t bother him at all that he could feel their three friends watching them, but he did break off the kiss before it could lead to something else.

 

“I’ll be fine,” Steve repeated in a whisper just for Tony’s ears. His earlier uncertainty seemed only a distant memory as he stroked back Tony’s hair and assuaged his fears. “Leave your window unlocked tonight. I’ll come find you,” he told him and kissed his mouth once more, briefly, before parting ways with him at the next intersection.

 

From there, and after another parting kiss (much more chaste this time to everyone else’s relief), he, Bucky, and Natasha found their way around the castle and towards the training hall. It didn’t escape Steve that Bucky kept throwing one to many glances in his direction, most of them disapproving or just plain serious. Steve tried to ignore it at first, but then Bucky started being unsubtle about it.

 

“ _What_?” he finally asked in exasperation.

 

“You know it can’t last forever,” Bucky said, somber. “He’s going to be married off to a royal of a neighboring kingdom as soon as the king deems it necessary.” Steve gave no outward indication of his despair at that thought.

 

“I know,” he only said even as his insides screamed violent protest.

 

“Then you shouldn’t have to put up with this now.” Bucky’s voice was firmer now. “You have a great future ahead of you. You know Dame Margaret’s considering you for a promotion. What do you think is going to happen when your relationship with the prince comes to light?” Steve stopped and clenched his fists.

 

“ _I know_ , Bucky,” he repeated, and Bucky saw that as his opening.

 

“I love you like a brother. You know I do, so you know that I have only the best intentions when I tell you that you need to break it off with him,” he said. Steve laughed, but not with amusement.

 

“What, because I know it’s not going to last? Because it can cost me my future?” he asked, demanded. Bucky said nothing both because it was unnecessary and because Steve didn’t allow him to. “Were you not  _there_  when I told him I’d suffer an infinite number of this more if it meant I could have him? Do you not  _understand_  that I would die tomorrow if it meant I could have him today? I don’t  _care_  for what happens to me. I could be tried, I could be imprisoned, I could be banished, I could be hung, and I wouldn’t  _care_  as long as it afforded me a minute longer with him!”

 

“Those are a fool’s words!”

 

“And I  _am_  a fool!” Steve bellowed. “Only a fool could love a prince and expect to be loved back, but you know what? He does! So I’m glad to be called a fool because otherwise I could never have even dreamt of this!” Bucky drew back, his face stunned at the outburst at first, and then worried, as he glanced around, that someone could overhear their conversation. That he still held that concern for Steve (and possibly his relationship with Tony), Steve felt inordinately grateful, so he lowered his voice. “I love him, James, I really do. A moment with him, no matter how fleeting, is worth a thousand moments of pain.” Bucky stared at him for a long moment, incredulity slowly transforming into acceptance. Then he sighed.

 

“I can’t say I agree with you, but… I suppose I can understand,” he eventually said. Steve gave him a smile, a genuine one.

 

“Thank you,” he said, clapping his shoulder and then looking at Natasha. “Both of you.”

 

……………

 

Commander Margaret Carter looked equally impressive as she towered over him (no matter that he was almost a foot taller than she) and furious, and Steve tried not to fidget nervously before her.

 

“Take off your clothes,” she ordered shortly.

 

“ _What_?” Steve balked before glancing at the other occupants of the room, Bucky and Natasha behind him, and Sir Philip Coulson behind Dame Margaret. Sir Philip was second-in-command to Sir Nicholas Fury, the commander of the king’s guard. Thus, in the king’s, and consequently, Sir Nicholas’s absence, he stood as the highest ranking security official of the castle, which mostly explained his presence here today. Steve couldn’t deny the quiver of fear that ran through him at the knight’s glare; while not as high up as Peggy, he was equally as formidable (if not more).

 

“You have been performing exceptionally abysmally since yesterday when I have never seen you at anything less than perfect before.  _And_  you are favoring your back,” she explained testily. “Do not take me for an idiot, Sir Steven, not when it is I who made you what you are today. Now  _take off your clothes_.” Steve clenched his jaw tight, risked a glance at Natasha who only nodded before he shucked his jacket and pulled off his shirt to reveal the bandages wrapped around his torso. “And those too. Natasha help him,” she added. Steve only held out his arms, flinching occasionally while Natasha undid her own handiwork and tugged off a scab. “Turn,” Peggy instructed when Natasha had finished, and Steve did so. Peggy said or did nothing for a long moment.

 

“So it’s true then,” she eventually said. Steve saw a self-satisfied look cross over Natasha’s features, which solidified his conviction that she hadn’t ratted him out. Peggy would never have doubted if it was she who had given her the information. Steve turned back to his mentor, but said nothing. It didn’t matter because she turned to Phil. “He’ll have to be removed from the castle and word sent to the king. We cannot allow high highness to be put in jeopardy.”

 

“No!” Steve protested before he could think about it, and dangerous glares were sent to him by his superiors.

 

“Be careful, Steven,” Peggy warned quietly. “I have been turning a blind eye to your dalliances with the prince, but you are treading on shaky ground right now. You should be thankful I’m not throwing you in the dungeons right now, much less stripping you of your title.” She carried a threat in her voice… and disappointment, which was much worse. “How could you even  _think_  to keep this a secret? Have you not thought of his highness’s safety?”

 

“If you know about our relationship, then you will know the answer to your questions,” Steve answered. He was in certain serious trouble, but he had to  _try_. “Please, mistress,” he begged. “This cannot reach the king. It will tear Anthony apart.”

 

“It’s not your choice to make, Sir Steven. We are tasked to ensure his safety and well being, and Archduke Stane is posing a threat to both,” Phil added.

 

“Not while I’m here. I’ve chosen to accept this to keep him safe from the archduke’s wrath,” Steve said.

 

“For how long, Steven? For how long will the archduke be content with beating you to torture his highness? How long until he decides to cut out the middleman altogether?” Peggy demanded. “Keeping the archduke here is a risk we are not willing to take!”

 

“But you will if I command it,” a new voice came from the doorway, a familiar voice that had Steve brimming with hope. All the occupants of the room turned to see Tony standing there, flanked by Rhodey and Clint, the latter of whom had most likely notified him of the meeting. The prince was the shortest and youngest in the room, and yet he dwarfed everyone else around him as he stood regal and proud, exactly the way a prince should.

 

“Your highness.” Both Peggy and Phil bowed at the waist before regarding him with concern while he swept into the room and stopped at Steve’s side. The knight felt a brush of fingers over his wrist, and he couldn’t help but smile down at him, weak as it were.

 

“You will keep this to yourselves and tell your other informant the same,” Tony ordered, his tone severe.

 

“The king has ordered—”

 

“And yet my father isn’t here to overturn my command, is he? And since he isn’t, I’ll ask you, whose authority supersedes the other’s: mine or yours?” His grin was sharp and cutting, and Steve fell in love with him all over again. Phil opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it again which only served to widen Tony’s grin.

 

“If he threatens to harm you—”

 

“He won’t,” Tony cut him off. He wasn’t sure, of course, but giving in to Phil’s concerns have him footing for additional protest.

 

“But if he did?”

 

“Steven will protect me the way I know any of you will,” the prince answered confidently. Phil looked terribly conflicted, and Steve felt a little bit sorry for him because in his place, Steve was pretty sure he would do the same thing.

 

“Of course, my lord. There is not a doubt that he wouldn’t,” the lieutenant finally conceded with a sigh, and Tony grinned triumphantly. “But if the king asks, I cannot lie.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Sir Phil,” Tony conceded before looking up at Steve and smiling softly.

 

“You should go back. Stane might find offense at your being here again,” Steve told him, stroking his cheek gently.

 

“Pepper’s keeping him occupied. He won’t notice my absence for a bit,” Tony said, but tilted his face into Steve’s hand all the same. “But okay.” He squeezed Steve’s wrist once, gave Phil and Peggy a meaningful look and then left Peggy’s office the same way he came.

 

“Barton,” Phil called before the archer could go far. Clint shrugged unapologetically.

 

“I’m fond of the little brat. I didn’t want to see his heart broken,” he said by way of explanation. No one called him out on the name calling, but not on everything else.

 

“He’s a  _prince_. The  _crown prince_. His heart is the  _least_  of our priorities,” Peggy snapped.

 

“The least of  _yours_  maybe. I’m only thinking that at least  _one person_  in the world—well, other than Steven, that is—should stop caring about the future king of Stark and start caring about Anthony,” Clint answered snidely. His insubordination was famous the kingdom over, and it amused Howard enough to turn a blind eye toward it. Plus the fact that his archery skill could be rivaled by no one in the world made him a favorite of the king’s and allowed him liberties no one else had. “He’s going to take the crown one day, and he’s going to be married off to some simpering foreign noble, whether he wants to or not. And I am very well sure that he doesn’t, so until then, I think he deserves to have  _something_  in his life that he  _does_  want without it being torn from him like his freedom is going to be.” Steve could kiss him when Peggy and Phil looked properly chastised. Argument lost, Peggy turned to Steve.

 

“Be that as it may,” she said. “The moment he is harmed in any way, the archduke will find himself immediately on the other end of that whip.” Steve nodded gravely, understanding the full implication of the statement. He’ll have to make sure, somehow, that Stane understood it as well. But even without the threat to their relationship, Steve would never have allowed Tony to be harmed anyway. He would have torn that person who does limb from limb and enjoyed doing so.

 

“Understood,” he said and bowed as Peggy dismissed him.

 

……………

 

Steve always seemed to handle himself better when Obadiah was present, the reasons twofold. First, he seems to have found a focus that gained him additional strength from rage. His glare at the archduke, if it could manifest physically, was potent enough to fell an ox, and Tony did not doubt he was counting the ways he could kill the older man. The second reason was that Raza seemed to be embroiled in a one-sided pissing contest with Obadiah over who was the bigger bastard, so he tended to overdo the whippings when he was put in charge. It was for those reasons that while Tony hated Obadiah to his very core, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved that the older man was here again this time around—the sixth time  in four weeks Steve was being punished—standing at Tony’s shoulder and holding him in place.

 

“Tell him why he’s being punished, Anthony,” Obadiah commanded. He always made Tony do so as though he took perverse pleasure in it. Tony wrung his hands anyway.

 

“I didn’t finish the design for the new irrigation system,” he said softly, then bit his lip when Steve’s eyes flicked to him, softening in assurance. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouthed at the knight, and Steve shook his head like he always did. He always, every day told Tony that none of this was his fault and that he shouldn’t apologize, but Tony struggled to believe him. If only he could be better, faster, perfect, Steve’s wouldn’t have to be subjected to this.

 

“And how many do you think he deserves for that?” Twenty was usually the minimum, but depending on the gravity of the offense, the archduke increased it accordingly. Even though Tony knew that, he still always tried to work for a lower number.

 

“Ten,” he said, softly because he was afraid that one of these days, Obadiah was going to grow tired of correcting him.

 

“Twice that,” Obadiah did correct, and half a second later, the whip snapped.

 

Tony had been trying so hard, and he’d been doing better now than he did before, but it had still been barely over a week since Steve had last been punished and the time before that, not even a week prior. There was no way for his back to have healed by then even with Bruce’s help. Peggy was already making veiled threats about informing the king and only failed to follow through because the army wasn’t in need just yet and because Steve worked twice as hard to overcome his injuries during training.

 

Half-way through the lashes, Obadiah’s hand crept casually around the base of Tony’s throat. The prince’s waning focus snapped to attention, and a crawling feeling radiated over his skin from beneath the palm, outward. He saw the moment Steve also observed the motion because the placid blue eyes suddenly turned stormy, and he was no longer flinching from the whip. In fact, it seemed as though he had forgotten about it completely.

 

“Let go of him,” the knight whispered dangerously. His body was strung taught, but none of it the chains’ doing. Obadiah only curled his hand further around Tony’s neck as though he hadn’t heard the warning in Steve’s voice. Tony’s whole body flinched at that, questions and scenarios and fear running through his head. Obadiah wouldn’t do anything. He knew what punishment befit those who meant to harm the prince, so he wouldn’t.

 

Would he?

 

“Let go of him,” Steve repeated just as dangerously as the first time, “before I rip your fingers off of your hand one by one and feed them to you.”  The lashes had stopped, but there was no sense of relief from either the prince or the knight.

 

“Exceptionally talkative today, aren’t we, Sir Steven?” There was amusement in Obadiah’s voice. “Don’t worry; we’ll change that,” he said, just before Raza stepped forward and flung a fist straight into Steve’s jaw.

 

“No!!!” Tony screamed at Steve’s pained grunt, and then again at the next punch, “Please! Stop, Obadiah! Stop!” He turned to see Obadiah nod to Raza, but that could have meant anything from “enough” to “continue indefinitely,” so he stepped closer and grasped the front of the archduke’s robes. “Obadiah, please,” he begged, conveying as much plea as he could in both his voice and expression. “ _Please_!” There was only silence between the two of them, tainted by the smack of flesh against flesh and Steve’s responding grunts, while Obadiah seemed to think about it. Tony struggled to hold Obadiah’s gaze and maintain his own expression through it all, so he saw just when the archduke’s gaze changed from openly amused annoyance to concealed smug pleasure. Eventually, Obadiah tugged Tony closer and petted his hair.

 

“Alright,” he said tenderly. “That’s enough for today.” And Tony could almost sob in relief when the beating stopped. He released the robes in his hand, but allowed Obadiah to continue stroking his hair to his heart’s content, and when the older man stopped doing so, he held perfectly still, fearing that any movement would make him change his mind. With one last glance, the archduke exited the room, followed closely by his men, and only when the door was shut with a heavy clang did he run for the key and unchain Steve in a hurry.

 

The knight wasted no moment after the chains had fallen away and clattered against the wall. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and slammed him up against the wall opposite them. Their mouths were against each other’s in the very same instant and their hands all over each other in the next. Tony wound his fingers in Steve’s hair and hitched his legs up around Steve’s waist while the other man grabbed the backs of his thighs to haul him up and press him harder into the stone. It inadvertently rocked their cocks together, their skin impeded from touching by only a single layer of clothing between them, eliciting moans from both. Like this, with Steve hot and hungry and hard against him, Tony had almost forgotten was had happened only minutes before, could almost forget that Steve was most definitely in pain, could forget that anyone could walk in at any moment. Only Steve devouring him and claiming him was important.

 

His lips were released, and the blonde kissed his way down Tony’s neck and back up to his ear.

 

“Let me have this,” he hissed, rocking into Tony almost painfully. “Let me have you like this, up against this wall where I can see and think of it the next time Stane punishes you.”

 

‘Punishes you’ not ‘punishes me’ because Steve’s physical pain was negligible against the emotional and psychological grief it brought Tony. He didn’t want to trivialize what Steve felt on his skin; he didn’t want to compare them in any way, but to hear Steve acknowledge it… it was humbling.

 

“Always.  _Always_ , Steve,” Tony breathed into the air over his shoulder. Steve said nothing further and only let him down long enough to kick off his pants. His robe and shirt were opted to be left on in favor of pressing once more against each other. Tony’s legs went back around Steve’s waist, and if he aggravated the injuries in any way (and he most certainly did), Steve gave no indication that he had done so. Instead, the knight took one of his hands and lifted it over their heads. Tony, occupied with deepening their kiss, couldn’t realize what Steve intended until a manacle clamped around his wrist. He broke the kiss in surprise, looked up and then looked back at Steve, seeing a question in his eyes.

 

Slowly, Tony lifted his other hand toward the matching cuff beside the first. An undecipherable expression crossed Steve’s face while he reached up to close the second cuff and guide Tony’s fingers around the chains.

 

“Hold on here,” he instructed softly and then tipped Tony’s chin up and sucked on his neck.

 

The manacles served several purposes. First, they helped Steve in holding Tony up against the wall. While he was strong enough to keep the smaller man in place with just his hands and his body, it greatly eased the burden and allowed him to worry about things other than dropping him, things like opening him up with his fingers and breaking him apart with his mouth. Second, they grounded Tony. When Steve grinded up against his front and teased his entrance with his fingers, the chains provided a literal and figurative handhold for him that kept him somewhat sane and relatively coherent.

 

Plus, there was just something about seeing the prince tied up in a way that was possible to no one else. That was the important part because all of this—this was just a way for Steve to affirm his claim on Tony and to wipe of the threat of Obadiah from his skin and from their minds. Tony knew it, and he wanted to give Steve that affirmation. He was Steve’s, always and completely.

 

The knight sunk into him, slowly and steadily and carefully. There was an incredible amount of friction between them, owing to mere spit as their lubrication, that made each inch seem like a foot long and a foot wide. Tony tossed his head back against the wall with a long groan, and Steve obliged by kissing him under his chin, but he didn’t stop. Every ounce of sensation beyond the cock that breached him disappeared almost completely, and he could feel only a burn that teetered dangerously on the edge of pain. And then finally,  _finally_ , Steve bottomed out in him. He pressed his face into Tony’s chest and panted heavily as though he had run a mile, but he held perfectly still, allowing the nerves in Tony’s body to settle back down.

 

“Please,” Tony murmured—no, Tony  _begged_. He could still feel pain because Steve wasn’t small by any standard of the imagination, and the lack of decent slick only exacerbated it, but that was his penance if it meant taking back a fraction of the suffering he owed Steve.

 

The older man lifted his head to trace Tony’s face with his gaze, starting at his eyes and ending at his lips. Then, he leaned forward and followed the same path with his mouth. There was no movement between the two of them, save for the exchange of their mouths, but Tony felt like he was melting right down to the floor. He grasped the chains slightly to verify that it wasn’t so, and the rattle of it seemed to spur Steve into action. He pulled out and thrust back gently into Tony’s heat, drawing moans from the teenager.

 

“This isn’t supposed to be a punishment,” Steve said through a kiss to his jaw and a thrust of his hips. “I won’t hurt you; you cannot make me do so.” Tony didn’t intend for him to understand his thoughts, but maybe Steve knew him too well. “This is all purely selfish of me. This is so that I can think of you, strung up and aching for me, while I am strung up and aching for you.”

 

“Not,” Tony interrupted through a gasp, “not selfish.” Steve smirked.

 

“I suppose not,” he agreed and extracted another gasp from Tony to validate his agreement. He kissed the prince and whispered, “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Tony hummed in mock disagreement, so Steve chuckled. “Well, you are, especially like this, hung by your wrists and impaled on my cock.” Tony moaned. “God, yes.” Steve thrust hard, once then again. “So beautifully responsive to me.”

 

“Steve, please.” Tony was aching. He was aching to be taken hard and fast and left wanting more. He was aching for this to end and to never end. He was aching to come and for Steve’s come, but “Please, Steve” was all he could say. Steve leaned forward and caught the skin of his shoulder in his teeth. He hefted Tony up further and grasped him properly, and then he was jacking into Tony as though he wanted to cleave the prince in half from the force of his thrusts alone. And he could have very well done so by the unimpeded sound he made. Tony grasped at the chains above him and let Steve use him as he saw fit, but he moaned and whimpered and begged and sobbed for each and every thrust.

 

“Is this what you want?” Steve asked, and Tony almost paused in disbelief. How could he even  _ask_? Was it not obvious in the way Tony drew to him like a moth to flame? Was it not obvious in the way he craved his attention? In the way he begged for a touch? But then, there was a need in Steve’s voice, a need that Tony would always find a way to satisfy.

 

“I want so, so much more, Steve,” he confessed. “I want to hold your hand when we walk through the gardens. I want to fall asleep with you in my bed. I want people to ask, ‘who is that?’ and me to answer, ‘he’s mine.’ But mostly, I want to show the world that I belong to no one but you.” Steve’s eyes  _shone_  with unbridled happiness that couldn’t help but force a reflection out of Tony. “For now, though, yes. Yes, this is what I want.” He kissed the knight and then whispered, “Make me yours, Steve.”

 

Steve slammed their lips back together and thrust once, twice, three times. He opened Tony up, cell by cell, and filled him back up with every ounce of emotion he possessed for the prince, and Tony could do no more than hold on and accept what he gave. He tightened his legs around Steve, pulling him even closer when he slammed in, and cried out his pleasure. Then Steve grasped his cock between them and jerked him off to the best of his ability, and Tony couldn’t help but cry his release into the air.

 

His pleasure was overshadowed, moments later, by oversensitivity, but Steve was still thrusting with reckless abandon. He allowed the knight to take his fill and use him until he buried his face into Tony’s shoulder, and he, too, poured out his release.

 

They stood still, only breathing heavily for long moments, and then Steve pulled out gently, pulling a wince from Tony at the same time. He let the prince’s legs down, ignoring the red of the blood from his back that stained the length of white skin, and turned him to face the wall.

 

“Let me see,” he said, voice full of concern as he knelt and spread Tony’s legs. The prince couldn’t help but blush as his lover inspected his hole, with his eyes and his fingers, for any bleeding. He had just come not five minutes ago; he should not find the treatment as arousing as it did.

 

Then, not even Steve’s warm breath could have warned his cry of surprise away when Steve’s tongue, without warning, laved over his sore, dripping hole. He jerked against the chains and thrust his hips back almost inadvertently.

 

“S—Steve?” he gasped, questioning.

 

“Shhh,” Steve murmured from behind him, below him, and then his mouth was applied again on Tony’s hole, and his tongue found its way where his cock had been. Tony couldn’t help the broken noise that escaped him while Steve licked and sucked him  _there_. His cock was filling again, but he didn’t know if he had anything more to give. It didn’t seem to matter to Steve who found no reason to stop, just thrust his tongue in and out the channel, soothing and heating at the same time.

 

Tony was babbling, he knew he was. Incoherent and random mutterings interspersed with sobs of pleasure fell from his lips. Steve ignored all this and ate him out at his own pace, as though he was enjoying but a delicious dinner.

 

“I—I can’t!” Tony nearly wailed as he felt the edge nearing. Steve ignored him, but tightened his hands around Tony’s bare hips when they jerked repetitively. He was held still, by the iron chains and the iron grip, but he trembled all over, every cell in his body vibrated with lust and desire and pleasure. The sore ring of the entrance heightened his awareness of the tongue squirming in him, licking him on the inside. It was at that thought that Tony, suddenly and without forewarning, came over the wall, splattering it with what little come he could spare. The scream that was supposed to accompany it stuck in his throat for the longest while and eventually died into a mere moan. Steve didn’t stop until he twitched from a second bout of oversensitivity and, beyond that, said or did nothing.

 

The knight pulled away for a moment, presumably to get the key, and then Tony found his hands falling to his side and found himself falling backwards into Steve’s arms.

 

“Good?” Steve asked, a teasing note in his voice. Tony couldn’t answer. He was sure his tongue had stopped working at some point, so he only shut his eyes and allowed himself to be held.

 

……………

 

Bruce looked between them and lifted an eyebrow when they arrived. Nothing on his face said he didn’t already know what had happened immediately before they came to him. It didn’t help that Tony’s hair was mussed beyond all help and he was walking with a slight limp. His clothes luckily hid the destruction at his neck and wrists, but the hems of his robe bore flecks of blood that Tony wasn’t sure he could deny. They’d washed up as best as they could before they came, but blood was a tricky substance to hide especially from one as accustomed to it as Bruce was.

 

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Tony offered because somehow denying their liaison had become more important than acknowledging Obadiah’s petty ‘lessons.’

 

“I haven’t said anything,” Bruce pointed out, but his face clearly showed he didn’t believe a word Tony said. Thankfully, he didn’t call them out on their denial and instead addressed the purpose of their visit. “Sit down and take your shirt off,” he then told Steve who complied quickly. The apprentice doctor frowned at the sight of his back, but almost as easily sighed as he got to work.

 

Tony sat on one of the desks, swinging his legs as he alternated between watching Bruce and Steve and staring out the window. It didn’t take long, this time, because Bruce had grown somewhat accustomed to their occasional visits and didn’t bother asking about it anymore.

 

“Thank you, Bruce,” Steve smiled when Bruce had finished and allowed him to pull on his shirt.

 

“I’d suggest taking a bit more care, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last,” the doctor-in-training said with a wry twist to his mouth. Tony hopped off the desk and inspected the bandages just before they disappeared beneath the hem of the tunic. He then caressed the covered back gently, both in comfort and to check for any real damage. He found nothing, but Steve’s shoulders tensed in an obvious sign of hiding his pain. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Steve whirled around and slapped a palm over his mouth.

 

“I swear to the Lord almighty, if you apologize again, I’ll—” He broke off abruptly, eyes widening, and Tony pulled the hand at his mouth away to reveal an amused smile underneath.

 

“You’ll what, darling? Put me on my knees?” he asked cheekily. And then his eyes widened in alarm and flicked to Bruce to see the man watching them with detached and wistful amusement. Bruce caught his gaze.

 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said quickly, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “I mean, if I hadn’t figured out your relationship the first time you visited, I should probably thinking of giving up this profession really.” Tony smiled weakly at the attempt at humor, but there was still a feeling of nakedness at their relationship being brought out into light. Bruce’s teasing smile turned a bit more serious and sincere at it. “I understand, your highness. I really do, probably more than anyone else here.”

 

“Have your own secret relationship, do you, doctor?” Steve asked lightly.

 

“Well, not anymore,” Bruce admitted as he cleaned up his medical supplies. “I left when her father found out. Been avoiding him—and her—until the good doctor ran into me and offered me an apprenticeship.”

 

“Why did you leave?”

 

“I was poor. She was rich. You should know how that goes, Sir Steven,” Bruce laughed humorlessly, mockingly.

 

“Have you spoken to her since?” Steve asked.

 

“I value my head on my shoulders too much to do so,” he answered with a wry grin. “Although I have considered once or twice realigning my priorities.”

 

“Well, maybe I could help,” Tony offered. “What’s her name?” Bruce looked like he didn’t want to tell, but it was hard-wired in him—in the same way that it was in all of them—that he couldn’t not answer a question from royalty.

 

“Lady Elizabeth Ross, your highness,” he admitted eventually. Tony’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

 

“ _Really_?” he gaped. “Well, it’s a miracle you escaped alive. Lord Thaddeus may be one of father’s oldest noblemen, but he’s certainly one of the most insane.” Bruce nodded in agreement, but Tony looked a bit crestfallen. “Father won’t want to interfere and anger Lord Thaddeus. I don’t know if I can command him to let you see her or be with her.”

 

“It’s fine, Prince Anthony. Really, it is,” Bruce said, but Tony suddenly lit up.

 

“I could ask her to come and have tea with me though. I’m sure Lord Thaddeus would be more than amenable to that. I mean, I can’t _possibly_ be sure that I’ll be available for her for the entire duration of her stay—I’m incredibly busy, you see—but I’m sure I can get someone to show her around,” he said with a mischievous grin and an outrageous wink. Steve laughed loudly and kissed his temple, but Bruce gave a small, if incredibly grateful smile.

 

“I’m sure you could, your highness,” he answered, and Tony beamed.

 

……………

 

He hadn’t missed a class. He hadn’t missed any of Obadiah’s deadlines. He had learned to hold his tongue and speak politely to the archduke and all of his cronies. He hadn’t made any nighttime visits outside the castle—in fact, he’d rarely had any chance to well and truly _be_ with Steve in case Obadiah found offense to that. For the last two weeks, he’d kept Steve out of the dungeons. For the last two weeks, he had been doing _so well_.

 

But of course, all good things had to come to an end.

 

"This is unfair!" Tony cried. He pulled against the hands that held him in place because Steve was strung up once more in front of him, slice after slice cutting through his skin by a metal-tipped whip that might have well be tipped with a blade. This time around, his screams were muffled by a carefully applied gag, and his words of threat and of comfort were rendered useless. "Stop! Archduke, this is insane! I command you to stop!"

  
  
To his surprise, Obadiah held up a hand and the whips did stop.

  
  
"This is unfair," Tony repeated, quieter this time, though his voice shook with fear and anger. "This is not a mistake, it is not _mine_. I cannot sign that decree—moving the trade routes from Potts to Stane will _kill_ their economy, and possibly that of the entire kingdom! There's a reason my father put it there—"

  
  
"No, Anthony," Obadiah answered. "Your father put it there as a gift for Duchess Viola—no other reason. He gave it to her in thanks of all the nights she spent in his bed!"

  
  
"Liar!" Tony screamed and just as he did, the whip snapped once.

  
  
"You can ask your father yourself or you can not make the same mistake and sign this decree!"

  
  
"No!" Tony answered, firm and sure because he couldn't undo his father's orders, no matter what or why those orders had been made. And they weren't rash decisions either even if what Obadiah was saying was true. Potts was fertile land, in the most economic of senses, and keeping it well fed with trade benefited Stark as a whole.

  
  
"Then you have doomed Steve to his punishment," Obadiah sneered, and then snapped at the punisher, "Fifty!"

  
  
"No! Stop! That's unfair! That's—archduke, stop!" Tony cried, his struggles renewed. "Father will hear about this! He'll side with me on this! He’ll strip you of your lands for ruining his plans—and that Steve and I are in a relationship won’t save you!" Obadiah froze—discreet enough that no one would have noticed had Tony not been glaring so carefully at him—then shifted his stance and turned a critical eye toward Tony.

 

“You overestimate your influence toward your father, Anthony; I thought I had schooled you on this,” he said. “You may be your father’s son and next in line to the throne, but your father has known me longer, has enjoyed my loyalty to him. He knows that I act only in complete deference to him.” His guard raised the whip over his head once more, but was suddenly held in place when Obadiah said, “However.” His voice was wrought with such affection and tender care that made Tony’s anger wilt and give way completely to fear. The room paused to wait for his words. “I do see that you have been trying really hard, Anthony,” he said, petting Tony’s hair as one would to a toddler. “And in light of that good behavior, I’d like to give you a reward: an opportunity to reduce Steven’s sentence.”

 

“ _Anything_ ,” Tony answered quickly, suddenly overwhelmed with relief and desperate for that chance to fix this without having to out them to his father. Steve made a noise of protest behind his gag, but he was easily ignored. What was more concerning was the unmistakable triumphant gleam in the archduke’s eyes. Tony felt a cold wash of fear come over him at the sight of it, but he wasn’t going to retract his answer. He was willing to do anything that would alleviate any of Steve’s pain. The hand in his hair tracked its way down his head to cup his jaw, and Tony swallowed as Obadiah tilted his chin up slowly.

 

“I’ll reduce the number of lashes to twenty,” he said and there wasn’t even a hitch in his words that would indicate a compassion, a humanity in him as he said those words. Then he whispered, audibly enough to be heard by everyone in the room, “If you pleasure me with your mouth.”

 

Steve’s scream of protest and of anger was loud enough to be heard possibly all the way up to the main level. Tony had never heard him scream that loud before, and it momentarily startled his attention away from Obadiah’s offer. Steve’s eyes were wide and panicked more than angry, and he struggled against the chains to get to the prince, making them clatter loudly. The genius could understand his muffled yells clearly enough, and it made him start to really  _think_  about what he would be agreeing to. But then Raza stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach, silencing him momentarily. And then the captain punched him and kicked him again and again and again while horror reared its head in Tony, and he blurted out his answer without  _thinking_.

 

“Yes, okay!” he agreed. He turned away from Steve, missing the way he shook his head to clear away the effects of Raza’s beating, and slowly fell to his knees. It took the knight a second more to get his bearings, allowing Tony a moment to  _not think_  as he freed Obadiah’s cock from his robes. And then the whip snapped, and Steve howled, and Tony swallowed Obadiah down.

 

The whip cracked again as Obadiah tangled his fingers in Tony’s hair, and again while Tony sucked on the tip of his cock and down its length. It cracked when Obadiah thrust forward, and Tony gagged around him, and again when he pulled back. By then, Steve’s screams were an amalgamation of pain and protest and despair, and Tony had to try very hard not to think about him while he sought to bring the archduke off as quickly as he possibly could. Even harder was to try to ignore the filth and vitriol that fell from Obadiah’s lips.

 

“Marvelous how exquisite your mouth feels, Anthony. I have to admit that I’m stunned,” he was saying through his moans of pleasure and the cracking of the whip. Tony closed his eyes and stroked the other man’s length. “Makes me wonder if it’s truly only Steven you’ve ever pleasured because it certainly feels like you’ve had a lot more practice than that.” Tony ignored him and the fingers that tightened in his hair and pulled at his scalp. The words were so much different from the way Steve spoke to him. Steve made him flushed and hot, made him wanton and aching.  _These_  words, however, only felt like sludge, creeping over him, making his stomach roil in disgust. “It’s not an altogether strange thing, after all, to imagine you on your knees, servicing one manhood after another, men lining up to fill your mouth with their cock and come. I daresay you might come to like it even.” The prince made a small, protesting noise, but was quickly silenced with a harsh thrust into his mouth.

 

“It’s an interesting concept that maybe we can explore one day: Stark’s little prince: a cockwhore and a cumslut. What say you?” His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of darkness barely hidden beneath the surface. Tony said nothing while Steve roared his fury. Amusement leaked from Obadiah’s every pore, but he said nothing further, instead taking over Tony’s fellatio and fucking into his mouth with reckless abandon. Tony could do nothing but clutch at the archduke’s robes, hold his mouth lax and struggle to keep from heaving the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

 

The whipping had stopped by the time Obadiah’s thrusts grew staggered and erratic. He shifted a hand down to Tony’s cheek and dug his thumb into the skin and in between his teeth to hold the prince’s mouth open while he pulled out completely. With his other hand, he jacked himself off and, with a grunt, came spectacularly all over Tony’s face, striping his cheeks and eyelids and the inside of his mouth with his come. He released his cock with one last groan, discreetly covering it with his robes, and caressed Tony’s cheek. Tony held perfectly still as the come was smeared further into his skin, but obeyed when Obadiah physically pushed his jaw shut with a fond smile on his face.

 

“Swallow,” he ordered, and Tony did, nearly gagging on the foul taste of his seed. “Good boy,” came the praise and the affectionate pets to the hair as Tony bowed his head. Then Obadiah and the guards swept out of the room, but not without lingering glances at Tony that made his skin crawl. It was a small blessing that they said or did nothing as they left—as of yet, anyway.

 

The door shut behind the last guard, leaving Steve still strung up and Tony still on his knees where Obadiah left him. His body thrummed with guilt and humiliation, and he couldn’t find the will in him to face Steve just yet, so he allowed the cloying silence and stillness to reign around them.

 

Steve made a small noise to call his attention. Tony said nothing and didn’t move. He tried to appear as if he hadn’t heard Steve at all, but when the knight made a louder noise, the prince could no longer claim to have missed it. He stood slowly and deliberately, wiped his face clean with his sleeve, and walked to where the key would be hanging. Then, he went to Steve and freed him from his shackles, all the while refusing to look at him. Steve grabbed him at the first opportunity, and, despite a brief, feeble struggle, was able to pull him into his arms.

 

“Anthony,” Steve whispered, so softly that Tony had to strain his ears to hear. His voice was laced with so much pain that Tony knew wasn’t from being whipped. To that, the first tear fell, and the first choked sob escaped him, followed quickly by the next one, and the next one, and the next one until Tony was crying, long and loud, into Steve’s chest, apologizing like he always did after every one of these sessions. This time, though, he was apologizing for so much more. Steve said nothing and held him for what seemed like hours until his voice grew rough, and he couldn’t cry anymore.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tony repeated. “I didn’t want you hurting anymore. Not for me. I’m sorry.” Steve shushed him and rocked him gently.

 

“I don’t need protecting, Tony. Not from you. Not from this. I can handle pain; I’m  _trained_  to,” he answered. “But seeing you kneeling for him where I couldn’t do anything about it, watching you—” Steve’s voice broke off with a single choked sob of his own, and he bent to press his face into Tony’s neck. “—I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t do  _anything_. I’m sorry… I’m  _so_  sorry…” Tony tightened his grip on Steve’s waist, pulling him closer in lieu of hugging him, which would only aggravate his back, as the knight broke down in sobs that Tony had never heard before. It was gutting, and Tony had never felt so wretched.

 

“It’s not your fault, love, not one iota of it. It was  _my_  choice,  _my_  decision,  _my_  fault. You have nothing to be sorry for,” Tony tried to assure him, stroking his hair. The knight straightened into a stand, wiping his eyes with the back of his forearm. There was misery and self-loathing in him, visible in his glittering eyes.

 

“I shouldn’t have let it get this far. Dame Peggy and Sir Phil were right; we should have put a stop to this before it could escalate. We should have—” Tony slapped a hand over his mouth.

 

“We should have  _nothing_! I’m  _not_  giving you up, Steve, not for anything, not for the world, not even if I had to whore myself out to every one of Obadiah’s men.” Steve hissed at him, anger twisting his mouth into a frown.

 

“Except when your father decides that it’s time for you to marry, you mean,” he said. Pain twisted Tony’s heart as he reeled back because Steve was  _right_. He was right because this would never have happened in the first place if there hadn’t been the risk of that happening, of his father tearing them apart the moment he found that he and Steve were together. “I’m sorry,” Steve apologized almost immediately, all anger draining as soon as Tony’s warmth left him. He reached out and pulled the prince back into his arms, holding him tight. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. No, you aren’t going to whore yourself out to them. I refuse to allow you to. If this happens again, Anthony, I’m going to rip Stane’s head off his neck, regardless of the king finding out,” he was saying, but Tony couldn’t hear him over the sound of his own thoughts. They were flitting through his head at impossible speeds, plans and options and factors and possible consequences.

 

“Run away with me,” the prince finally said. He didn’t look at Steve, but felt him freeze.

 

“What?” the soldier whispered.

 

“Run away with me.” Tony finally looked up at him, conveying all his determination and sincerity. “As soon as we can. We’ll leave before my father returns and stops us. No one will know. We’ll go to the duchy of Duchess Viola, and from there to the Xavier kingdom where no one can find us.” He was talking fast now, desperate to get Steve to agree, but the knight only seemed stunned. “We can get work at one of the small towns, you and I, and start our own life there where no one can tell us we can’t be together. We could be happy together in a way that we never could here. Steven,  _please_.”

 

“You—you’ll abdicate the throne for me?” Steve’s whisper was full of reverence and awe, which shouldn’t have been because Tony would do  _anything_  for him.

 

“Of course,” the teenager answered. “I told you I’d whore myself out for you, and you wonder that I’ll abdicate the throne? Of _course_  I would, Steve. I just don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before.” Steve kissed him, all passion and longing, and Tony scrambled to kiss him back just as fervently.

 

“Okay,” Steve said, pressing his forehead to Tony’s. “Okay.” Tony’s heart soared and he allowed himself a moment to dream of all the possibilities of a life with Steve. It would involve things he’d never done before; it would involve hardships of the likes that he couldn’t even imagine. He would no longer be “His Royal Highness, Prince Anthony of Stark,” but just “Anthony.”

 

 _Anthony Rogers_.

 

His heart fluttered in the cage of his chest, and he couldn’t help but give in to the urge to kiss Steve again.

 

……………

 

"You aren't going to get very far before they catch you."

  
  
Steve tensed his body and stilled his movements, his towel still pressed to his face to dry up the water he'd splashed on it. Slowly and as discreetly as he could manage, he lowered the towel down to his crotch. Though he wasn't as concerned as much with his nudity as he was with Natasha's words, it couldn't hurt to be just a little bit modest. By Natasha's smirk, though, it was a futile attempt, mostly because his ass was still on full view.

  
  
He had hoped and prayed they could have gotten away without her knowledge, but to be honest, he hadn't expected it—nothing could slip by the spy, especially not when she was so personally invested in it—so her approach wasn't a surprise. It was still, however, particularly concerning in that, if she knew, she could be bound to stop them. She was a friend by virtue of her friendship-cum-relationship with Bucky, but he didn't know her as well as he needed to in order to know for sure how deep her loyalties to the king lie (he didn’t think anyone, not even Bucky, was that close).

  
  
"You and I both know, Natasha, that we could, should you choose to keep quiet about it," he answered while he wrapped the towel around his waist and resumed his nighttime ritual of washing and shaving.

  
  
"And you think Duchess Viola will favor a rebellious prince and his illicit lover over her allegiance to the king and kingdom?" Steve turned away from to mirror to face her and see her leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest. The door was shut, and Bucky was nowhere in sight, a small relief all things considered because he felt free to think about what she was asking (ignoring for a moment what her question implied) without having to worry about fending off Bucky's protests.

  
  
Trusting Pepper's mother to keep them hidden had never been an option, which was why they hadn't planned on letting her know they were seeking passage through her lands. However, to expect her to be unaware of their presence there was a long shot they had no choice but to risk—at worst, Tony would be sent home and be given a stiff reprimand by his father, and Steve… Well, Tony's well-being would be safe, which was the important thing. None of the other lands could be expected to ensure as much. He didn't answer Natasha, though, both because her question was rhetorical and because Steve didn't think sharing their escape plans with her would be helpful or wise when he didn't know yet if she intended to help them or stop them. Natasha hummed in thought as she walked over. Her attention was fixed on Steve's heavily marked back, and somehow, Steve got the idea that she felt personally responsible to see to its healing.

  
  
"Why are you here, Natasha?" he asked while she prodded at his wounds and scars, clucking all the while.

  
  
"You won't get far. Not without help," she answered nonchalantly, almost absently, and this time, Steve seized up in hope.

 

  
"And I suppose this is your way of letting me know you'd be willing to extend your assistance?" he asked back, exactly as casually as he could manage. He could see in the mirror her head pop up over his shoulder. A new smirk was on her lips, but Steve was hard pressed to decipher it.

  
  
"The thought had crossed my mind," she said. Steve paused, the enormity of that occupying him for a moment.

  
  
"But… _why_?" he eventually asked. None of the casual confidence he had tried to affect remained in his tone any longer. Natasha ducked her head back down and stepped away, satisfied, it seemed, with what she found.

  
  
"Does the 'why' really matter, Steven?" she returned as Steve turned to face her.

  
  
"It's just… I don't understand why you'd help me steal away the kingdom's only heir. If anyone found out…" She scowled.

  
  
"I'm taking that as a sign of concern for me and thanking you rather than a slight towards my skills, which I'm sure you didn't intend." Steve blushed and stammered an apology. Of course it wasn't a slight; Steve knew firsthand how good Natasha was at what she did. He just didn't want others risking themselves for him. Natasha smiled and patted his cheek. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I wasn't planning on staying for long after you leave—only enough to assist with the transition and make sure neither Obadiah nor any one of his people is named successor." Steve was confused and a little bit concerned. "I thought it was time for me to move on, you know: find new challenges, conquer new worlds." The knight was pretty sure his face expressed fear—Natasha seeking world domination was a frightful concept. Steve didn't doubt her ability to do so, and was sure she'd be a terrifying, though merciful, dictator—but Natasha only laughed and patted his cheek. "Dress properly, Steven. We have somewhere to be."

  
  
She half-forced him into a simple tunic and marched him out the door. They discreetly made their way through the barracks, drawing little attention from the soldiers who were readying themselves for bed, and across the grounds, following a path which Steve was intimately familiar with. He frowned.

  
  
"The answer's still 'no,' Natasha, no matter what Anthony says," he thought to tell her. She laughed again, but didn't respond to the jibe even when they reached the ground beneath Tony's window. She glanced up once, flicked out a pair of small blades into her palms, and then launched herself onto the side of the wall. She scaled it with an ease and finesse that suggested this wasn't the first time she had done this—or the second, or third, or even the tenth for that matter. Steve waited for her to swing herself up onto the balcony before he too made his way up the wall, digging his fingers and toes into the niches he had long since carved for himself.

  
  
The numerous memories of each instance he scaled the wall piled up in his mind, making the trek up and his landing mostly uncomfortable. He half-expected, on slipping through the window, to find Tony unclothed on his bed, for all the times he'd done so. It was a minor disappointment that he wasn't, but Tony greeted him with a deep kiss, so it wasn't a complete loss. When they'd pulled apart, Steve saw a group sitting on the floor around a map. In the group were Pepper, Rhodey, Clint, Natasha… and Bucky. Steve's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

  
  
"What?" his best friend said. "You sulk like a child—I'd much rather help you commit treason than sit through your sulking for the rest of my life." Steve's automatic response would have been to fire back a retort, but the intention was unmistakable and, frankly, touching, and Tony was burying himself in Steve's chest, so the knight could only manage a genuine smile. Bucky gave one back and then turned back to the map.

  
  
Steve ignored them for one moment, turning to the boy in his arms. He wrapped both arms around Tony, kissed the top of his head. Then he tilted Tony’s chin up.

  
  
"Are you sure about this?" he whispered. Tony frowned.

  
  
"Of course I am," he said. "Aren't you?"

  
  
"It's just… You're going to give all of this up: your family, your place in line, the kingdom, the throne… So much… And for just me?" Tony scowled and then jerked Steve down to crash their lips together. Their teeth clicked, and pain bloomed where their lips smashed together awkwardly, but Steve held Tony tight against him anyway.

  
  
"You're an idiot if you think any of that matters to me more than you do," Tony answered when they pulled apart. Steve stroked his cheek and couldn't help but kiss him again.

  
  
"I love you," Steve whispered and kissed him again. "I love you." Kiss. "I love you so much." Kiss. "I love you." Their last kiss was longer this time, almost unending if someone hadn't cleared their throat, and then they remembered that they had company. Both blushed in embarrassment and took their place in the circle amidst amused, knowing grins.

  
  
"Okay, so now that Steven and his highness have stopped… exchanging pleasantries," Clint started. There were several laughs concealed (poorly) by coughs. "We can talk about how best to get them out of the kingdom."

  
  
...............

  
  
It was unusual for Obadiah's men to storm into the study while he and Lady Indries were in the middle of a lesson (in fact, it was unusual for them to enter the room at all). That alone put Tony on the edge.

  
  
"What's your business here?" he demanded, rising from his seat slowly. Unlike Raza, he didn't know the names of these men, and that somehow terrified him more than it should have.

  
  
"The archduke has commanded you to remain here for the afternoon, your highness," the one on the right answered as they stationed themselves by the door. Tony's eyes narrowed.

  
  
"And I assume you’re here to make sure I comply?” They said nothing, but then again, they didn’t have to. Their silence was enough of an answer. “And if I command you to let me leave?" he tried. He knew for sure that he couldn't have overridden Obadiah's command over these two men, regardless of Tony's higher rank, but it didn't hurt to try. As expected, neither of them budged from their spot. "Can I ask why, then?" he tried. Again, neither man said a word, so Tony turned to Indries with the same question uttered in silence. She was only as confused as he, though, which made nothing better, but nothing worse. Tony tried to step closer to the door, but they moved towards each other and blocked the exit with their bodies.

  
  
"Stay put, little prince. It would not bode well for any of us to disobey Archduke Stane," the same man said again.

  
  
"And it would not bode well for you to disobey a direct order from your liege. I say _step aside_ ," Tony snarled, putting as much authority as his station warranted into his tone. Both guards tensed at it, but that was as far as they seemed to be willing to comply. It seemed they were either incredibly loyal to Stane (and consequently incredibly stupid for having chosen to be) or more afraid of Stane than of him. Tony, convinced that he could exert no authority over them, backed away and made his way to the window. He peered out and around it, trying to find some clues to explain Stane's sudden command, but could see nothing but the lake before him. 

  
  
His eyes narrowed in thought at what could have possibly changed that Obadiah felt the need to have him watched so closely when he had never done so before.

 

And then it clicked: He knew.

 

 _Oh god, he knew_!

 

Tony slowly turned to see the guardsmen watching him, sadistically delighted grins on their faces. He had to get out of here; he had to find Steve. They needed to go _now_ , screw the plan. In his most authoritative voice, he said, "If you let me go now, I will ask my father to spare you mercy." The other man smirked.

  
  
"If I see him, little prince, I will ask for it myself," he answered with a sneer. "The same way your knight will have to ask for the archduke's." Tony's heart stopped. Without a second's thought, he thrust himself at the door, trying to slip between the two men who had no difficulty holding him back.

  
  
"What has he done to Steve?!" Tony screamed, hitting their chests repeatedly and trying to wedge a shoulder between them. "Let me out! Rhodey! _RHODEY_!!!" They grasped his arms and threw him back into the middle of the room. He stumbled over his own feet and fell to the floor while the second guard took pleasure in speaking down at him.

  
  
"Captain James Rhodes is no longer in your service, your highness. Your guard has been reassigned, and he, Steven Rogers, James Barnes, Clinton Barton, and Natasha Romanoff have been tried and sentenced for conspiring to kidnap the prince." 

  
  
 _What_?

  
  
"What?" Tony gaped.

  
  
"They will be sentenced to public lashings and then held in the dungeon until the king's return." There was a glee in the guard's voice that Tony wanted to punch out of him.

 

“No,” the prince whispered, and then louder, “No, he can’t do that! He can’t—” And then he flew once more toward the men, intent on getting through no matter what. They pushed him back and kept him away over and over again with little apparent effort. “Get out of my way!” Tony yelled. He tried throwing things at them and hitting him with anything he could get his hands on until the first guard pulled his sword out, a clear warning. The tip was three feet away from him, but it was clear who the sword was trained at.

 

“I would advise that you remain calm, your highness,” the guard said. The threat in his tone was hidden under a thin layer of politeness that Tony was afraid to break. He glanced away from the guard and to the window, numbers running through his mind as he wondered if he could use that for escape.

 

And then, with a loud and sudden bang, the doors behind the guards were suddenly thrown open, sending the two of them crashing onto the floor beneath Tony’s feet. He was caught in surprise and barely managed to dodge the outstretched sword, but before anything untoward could happen, Sir Philip and Commander Carter stood above them, their swords trained at the men’s throats.

 

“Your highness,” Phil said, holding out his other hand toward Tony. Tony took it without question and stepped over the men to stand behind Phil as the Howling Commandos swarmed the room and surrounded the two guards.

  
“Falsworth, Jones, Dugan, take these men to the dungeons,” Peggy told her men. “The rest of you, with me.” Tony fell into step behind Phil who led the march through the halls with Peggy and her men bringing up the rear. They slowed for no one, and the silence of the halls was broken only by the clinking of the metal of the group’s weapons. Servants who milled the hallways made sure to cast them a wide berth, but save for the few they passed, the halls were unusually empty.

 

In the courtyard, their horses were standing at the ready, and Tony mounted his with minimal effort. Like in the castle, Phil led them down to the town. The crossed the distance at a gallop, slowing only when they reached the cobblestone streets, and then they stopped completely to leave the horses. Their trek through houses and buildings was less harried, but only because they felt the need to prime themselves for the inevitable confrontation. Then, the lieutenant stopped and turned to Tony, cutting off the rest of the way to the town square. Peggy and the remaining Commandos surrounded him, blocking the view of the spectators who were peering out of their windows when they recognized his presence. Phil put both his hands on Tony's shoulders, an action sure to be frowned upon by most, but one Tony appreciated now.

  
  
"You are the _prince_ ," he said with emphasis, with conviction. "You are the crown prince, Anthony. When we enter the square, _remember that_." There was such force in his words that his intent couldn't help but be drilled into Tony.

  
  
Tony nodded once and then drew himself to his full height and somehow made himself seem bigger than his five foot six stature. He threw his shoulders back and lifted his chin and somehow dwarfed everyone else around him.

  
  
Phil's eyes never left his, but he seemed satisfied with what he saw and nodded back. Then, he moved to the back and allowed Tony to lead their procession.

  
  
Horror and anger hit Tony as soon as the blinding afternoon sun that drenched the wide open space did, but outwardly, he showed nothing but neutral interest at the five near-naked figures (the men wore only muslin trousers, and Natasha was given an open-backed dress that allowed her none of the modesty it was supposed to aim for) bound and kneeling on a crudely put-together platform. This close, he could hear and understand each of the scornful jeers and shouts of contempt, and he did his best not to yell in his friends’ defense—it wasn’t the villagers’ fault; they were being duped by the very man responsible for all this.

 

  
Bucky, Rhodey, Clint, and Natasha all knelt upright, strong and defiant while they waited for Obadiah to exact his punishment. Steve knelt three steps in front of the rest of them at the front of the platform, his wrists bound in front of him like the others, but his back free from any new injuries. Obadiah had a hand in his hair and jerked on it to punctuate and emphasize as he spoke.

  
  
"...allow him to get away with taking our beloved prince from us?" he was saying, earning cheers of agreement from his audience. He pulled Steve's head back sharply, exposing his throat as though priming to slit it. A sinister smile crossed his mouth, unrecognizable to everyone except those, like Tony, who knew what it meant. 

  
  
It was at that expression that Tony moved. He drew in a deep breath and said as loudly as he could without having to yell, "I can assure you, _Archduke_ , that that man has committed no crime." 

  
  
Silence descended on the square. The townspeople slowly turned to face him with stunned expressions on their faces. It wasn't his first time to be among his people, but those times were certainly far and few in between. Slowly, the crowd parted to allow him to pass, but he looked at no one but Obadiah who was halfway between stunned and furious. His eyes flickered to Phil and Peggy once, and then he seemed to understand, and slowly, the surprise washed away and left only fury in its wake.

  
  
No matter—Tony no longer feared him.

  
  
He climbed the steps with a grace he usually reserved for court, and when he reached the top of the platform, stepped forward towards the crowd.

  
  
"These men have committed no crime, and certainly not the one Archduke Stane is accusing them of," he said. He didn't have to explain himself to the people. He could have ordered the five of them to be cut loose, and no one would have voiced a whimper of protest. But he spoke because this was all a show purely for the citizens' benefit. He knew, like Obadiah knew, the value of appealing to their interest. "They have been nothing but loyal to my father and to me. To punish them for a crime they had not committed is something I will not stand for!"

  
  
Obadiah was seething; Tony could feel it on his skin though he did not spare the man a glance. The repercussions of these actions were going to hit him full force when his father returned, Tony knew, and he would have to pit his word against the archduke's, but he could not stand by any longer and let Steve, or anyone else, take the fall for him. If he would have to openly abdicate, then so be it.

  
  
"Cut them loose," he ordered the guard who held the whip. He looked terribly conflicted and glanced several times to Obadiah, asking for permission, it seemed. Tony held his head up and waited for the man to come to a decision on his own.

  
  
Suddenly, Steve launched himself to his feet and threw himself over Tony, throwing both of them to the ground. Tony hadn't even managed to let out his grunt when Steve's entire body weight slammed atop him and an arrow embedded itself in the spot he had been standing in.

  
  
"Natasha!" Steve managed to yell before the whole town was sent into an uproar. Natasha wasted no time in bolting to her feet and running through the crowd towards the direction the arrow came. She jumped up on the shoulders of some random man and used that to launch herself onto a low roof and, from there, to the higher levels. 

  
  
Tony could see, from where he was, a dark figure running across the rooftops with Natasha's pale figure hot on his heels. Her hands were still bound in front of her, but that didn't seem to slow her in the least.

  
  
The villagers below the platform were screaming and running in confusion and alarm. Peggy, Phil and the Commandos were working to contain Obadiah's guards who had engaged them the moment the arrow hit the platform. Rhodey, Bucky, and Clint had somehow procured themselves swords and were themselves involved in clashes with Obadiah's men, protecting Steve and Tony from any perceived threat.

  
  
Obadiah stood in the middle of the platform, surrounded by his guard and looking furious at the proceedings. He glared in the direction of the prince, his intent clear in his eyes.

  
  
In all the commotion, it wasn't out of place to hear a sudden clattering of hooves against the cobblestones. But nevertheless, Tony couldn't help but look away from the archduke and towards the direction from which it came.

  
  
Sir Nicholas Fury charged through the melee, his horse shouldering aside villagers who weren't fast enough to get out of his way. The expression on Nick's face was frighteningly murderous as he galloped up to the platform without slowing, and when he was close enough, he threw himself off of the horse and right on top of Obadiah.

  
  
Obadiah's guardsmen charged at Nick, but Dame Maria Hill and several other guards, both Stark and some other land's that Tony was currently hard-pressed to deduce right now, that had been hot on Nick's heels joined in the fray, holding them back while Nick subdued the archduke.

  
  
"Phil! Take his highness back to the castle. Rogers, Rhodes, go with him!" Nick barked, even while Obadiah flailed in his arms. Without question, the three took residence around him, several times parrying swords away from his direction, but as soon as they broke free from the square where the fight was concentrated, the threat had almost disappeared. They clambered up on the horses they had brought with them, Steve and Tony sharing the prince's steed while Rhodey and Phil claimed their own, and then they galloped their horses as quickly as they could back up to the castle.

  
  
"To your room, your highness. I’ll be with you in a moment," Phil said. He bowed quickly and ran in the opposite direction. Steve and Rhodey took up either of his sides and led him through the throng of oblivious servants. The three of them made haste upstairs, stopping only when they were safely inside his bedroom. Rhodey made quick work of inspecting the room and the bathroom and only when he was satisfied did he lock the windows and pull the drapes shut. They sat in silence and deep thought (broken only by the hand Steve ran up and down Tony’s back) until Phil returned, two guards with him that he left at the bedroom door.

  
  
"What—what happened? I don't... I'm not quite sure I understood what happened," Tony said, trying to keep the tremors of his adrenaline out of his voice. Phil’s jaw clenched tight at it took a moment for him to speak.

  
  
"I don't think I can answer most of your questions right now because I'm not too sure myself," he said. "I'm sure Commander Nicholas will have the answers you need when he has subdued the threat. But before the square..." He glanced at Steve. "You were being followed—that night when you made your plans? The archduke had you tracked. You and the prince were overheard when you were talking in the dungeon about running away, so Stane put a spy on you and listened in on your conversation." There was a wry twist to his mouth. "Really, did you think making _those kinds_ of plans without securing your surroundings was wise?" Steve looked chastised.

  
  
"Where's Pepper?" Tony suddenly realized. She was one of the people in on the plan and yet she wasn't with Steve and the others on the platform. His growing panic was quickly quashed by Phil's answer.

  
  
"She's safe," he said quickly. "She's protected by her mother's station; subjecting her to the same punishment as everyone else would be a political nightmare, so instead Stane confined her to her chambers until someone from her duchy can come to pay her ransom. She’s still there." Tony couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

 

"Okay," he said. "Okay. And then what?"

 

“Peggy and I heard about it after the five of you had already been apprehended,” Phil said. “That’s when we knew Obadiah had to be taken down. He’d been allowed too many liberties already.” Once more, Steve—and Tony this time—looked chastised. “But she and I were in argument as to whether or not to involve you. She was determined it was a security risk, but I was convinced you were both needed to be seen by the town and that you would want to be there.” He grinned wryly. “Nick’s probably going to have my hide for that, but—”

 

“No,” Tony said. “No, you did the right thing. I’ll vouch for you on that.” Phil shook his head and laughed without amusement before heading to the window to peer out of it.

 

“They’re on their way back,” he noted almost absently, then looked to Tony. “Could I, in any way, persuade you to stay here?” Tony grinned.

 

“I’ll tell them you valiantly tried to stop me,” he answered. Phil laughed again, this time with a greater degree more amusement.

 

...............

 

“We were ambushed,” Nick said as soon as all the meeting’s participants, himself, Tony, Maria Hill (his other lieutenant), Phil, Peggy, and Natasha, had arrived and settled down.

 

They were in the war room, somewhere both familiar and unfamiliar to Tony. It was mostly unused as Stark hadn’t been involved in a war for many decades now—well before his father had become king—but Tony had been in here before when his father decided it was high time that he be familiarized with this aspect of his future rule. The room itself was windowless and hidden by four solid walls and a heavy door. It was filled with maps and books that all professed usefulness should war arise and decorated with the armors of past kings—Howard’s included. It smelled of old parchment and dust as few people, mainly the curator and some high-ranking military officials like Peggy, ever accessed this room.

 

It felt cold.

 

“Just outside the borders of Asgard as we were headed home. The enemy arrived on foot, dressed in all black with not a single insignia on them,” Nick continued, pacing before Tony. “They took us out meticulously and systematically. They seemed to know exactly where and how to strike to get through the best of our attacks. In the end, it was only Maria, myself, and two of our men who were left standing by the time we managed to take down their leader and force the rest to scramble. Maria and I held the man at bay while Jasper and Melinda checked on the king and queen.” He stopped and all movement in the room, including the breaths of its occupants seemed to stop with him as well.

 

“And then?” Tony prompted, trying to feign an indifference he did not feel. Nick stared at him for a second longer than was warranted and then nodded.

 

“We interrogated the assassin, and managed to glean the information that it was the Archduke who contracted their services. He refused to give us the name of his organization, though, but we found this.” He gestured to the dagger Maria placed on the table. The hilt was engraved with a symbol Tony was not familiar with. It seemed, though, that he wasn’t alone because none of the others seemed to recognize it either.

 

Except Natasha, that is.

 

She stared at the dagger distrustfully and refused to view it up close like all the others had. Nick narrowed his eyes at her.

 

“What do you know of this?” he demanded. She pursed her lips.

 

“That is the seal of the KGB— _Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti_ ,” she answered. “They’re from Shostakova, a local but well known and efficient assassin group. They are contracted by the Shostakova monarchy so often that people think them to be the monarchy’s personal killing arm, but they are not. This is the first I’ve heard of them taking on a foreign client, though.” Nick frowned.

 

“We might have to regard Shostakova as hostile, in that case,” he mused out loud.

 

“My parents,” Tony interrupted. “Where are they?” Nick blinked at the interruption and the adopted a sincere, somber aura.

 

“We took them to Asgard where King Odin promised to care for them and send them back. Meanwhile, the four of us, along with a handful of Asgardian warriors and their own crown prince, Thor, were sent ahead to deal with Obadiah’s threat.”

 

Tony allowed Nick’s story to sink in. He held strong, doing his best to detach himself from his emotions even as they threatened to consume him. He and Howard didn’t have the most ideal of relationships, but he loved Howard just as much as he loved his mother, which is to say very much, but he couldn't afford to break down and cry like he wanted to or else he didn't know when he would stop—not an auspicious start to his rule.

 

God, his  _rule_.

 

He was king of Stark now.

 

He thought he'd have more time.

 

He thought he wouldn't become king at all.

 

He had  _plans_. 

 

Steve.

 

“I need to talk to Sir Steven,” he suddenly said, cutting off Nick's speech about weeding out any opposition among the nobles. The others, who were inspecting the assassin’s dagger, looked up at him, and Nick frowned in confusion.

 

“Steven Rogers?” he asked, looking to Phil for answers.

 

“Your highness, I think we have more pressing issues to address right now. A change in monarchy is sure to bring about the threat of war we need to discuss—” Peggy tried, but Tony cut her off sharply.

 

“I  _know_  what a change in monarchy does,” he nearly snarled. “And I will  _handle_  it, but right now, I need to talk to Steve!” There was silence among the people in the room. Then, Natasha exited discreetly, leaving the tension to simmer.

 

Tony held his silence and avoided any looks. More than that, he tried not to think about how his parents were now dead, leaving him in charge of a kingdom he wasn’t yet remotely ready to lead, and instead thought about that night he and Steve spent together just before Obadiah came to stay at the castle. He thought about the feel of Steve's skin beneath his fingertips, his scent, his taste. He thought about how Steve looked at him through his ocean blue eyes and told him he loved him.

 

The door opened, and Natasha slipped in. Steve, now in full armor, entered immediately after her and shut the door behind him. Tony started toward him almost involuntarily, aching for the strength of his arms to be wrapped around him. 

 

“ _Steve_ ,” he said, all the regret and apology he could possibly convey held in his tone. Even through the cold armor, he could feel Steve’s warmth.

 

“I understand," Steve murmured so that only Tony could hear him. "I understand, and I'll be here—I'll always be here,” he added. And it was how he could talk like that, how he could give Tony the comfort he needed even though he himself lost his parent too that gave Tony the confidence to pull back and hold his head high. Then Tony turned back to Nick and gestured for him to continue. For a moment, Nick’s attention was held by the imposing figure of a common knight standing at the new king’s shoulder. He turned to Phil who only shook his head, but eventually seemed to decide to drop it for now and resumed his discussion.

 

“Internally, our biggest problems lie in the lands of Stane and Hammer; Killian and Stone aren’t big enough to pose a threat, although we should watch out for potential spies and assassins among them. Stane’s son will likely attempt to follow through with his father’s plan, and Lord Justin has long since been seeking autonomy,” the head of the royal guard said.

 

“It would be best, I think, if Lord Ezekiel finds himself a guest of the castle before news of his father’s death reaches his ears. I’m certain a carriage can be arranged to collect him, and if he finds of his father’s death mid-journey and acts accordingly, he would already have been in our custody, and he will find himself a guest of our dungeons,” Phil suggested. They looked to Tony who nodded.

 

“Please send someone to do so now,” he instructed, staring at the map spread before him. Ezekiel, only a few years older than Tony, was already wrought with the ambition of his father. Tony knew, several times, that Obadiah had suggested to Howard a union between their sons, but because Stane was already receiving incredible favor from Howard by virtue of his and Obadiah’s friendship, Howard didn’t think it would gain any more advantage to wed them to each other. There was no such connection between Tony and Zeke, however (and not for the lack of trying on Zeke’s part), and without that favor, Stane’s power would be considerably lessened. It wasn’t unbelievable, therefore, to think that Zeke would either try to curry it with Tony somehow or take it forcibly altogether.

 

But for Hammer, he disagreed with Nick’s assessment. They weren’t as big a problem as Nick seemed to think. In fact, they wouldn’t be a problem at all if not for the size of their lands. Hammer used to supply the entire army as well as many of the private guards around Stark, with their weapons. This allowed them to amass land and wealth which held even after when Howard grew frustrated with the poor quality of weapons and took over its production himself. Now, Hammer had fallen out of favor with the royal family and had consequently lost much of their power.

 

Unlike Stane, though, who Tony knew would attempt to curry favor first and then take over the kingdom next, autonomy would be a better option for Hammer. First off, they’d never garner Tony’s favor, and they knew it because Lord Justin, Hammer’s heir, was an annoying little louse that Tony hated with every fiber of his being. Secondly, they would never win against the army. Hammer, out of a misplaced sense of pride, fashioned their men in Hammer weapons, which would never hold up against Stark products. Autonomy meant they would fight off the battlefield and in the political arena. Even then, they still didn’t pose much of a threat. While Tony couldn’t claim to be an expert in politics, he was nothing short of a genius and was consequently confident he could take anything thrown his way, and if that fails, he had a whole bevy of political experts on hand at any point in time.

 

“Externally, we should rally our borders against Khan,” Peggy added, pointing to the eastern side of the map. “Its ruler has not made a secret of wanting to take over Stark, and they have the means and methods to do so.” Tony frowned as he scanned the large mass of land Peggy was referring to. The emperor of Khan was exceedingly hostile. And dangerous.

 

“Can we take them?” he asked, looking up at both commanders. Peggy stole a look at Nick before answering.

 

“We can, if all our attention is redirected to them. It will leave us open to an attack from Shostakova and Shaw, among others, but we can.” Tony bit his lip, both in thought and in worry.

 

He was  _sixteen_ ; he was still in his teens, and here he was, making decisions that would affect the fate of many and possibly change the course of history for his kingdom as well as the world. He didn’t know what he was supposed to  _do_  or how he was supposed to do it. He clenched his fists at the thought of his parents, cold and dead in a foreign country, and Obadiah rotting in the dungeon—the three people who he relied on to guide him in the ways of a proper ruler. Who did he have left, who could he turn to for advice, for encouragement, for comfort?

 

“If I may, your majesty,” Steve suddenly spoke from behind him. Tony didn’t startle at the suddenness. He only felt a jolt of relief enter him because in the course of his contemplation, he had forgotten Steve.

 

“Of course,” he answered. Nick was giving Steve a withering glare for speaking out of place—if the king hadn’t called for him, he wouldn’t have even been here—but both Steve and Tony ignored him.

 

“This is not a burden you must bear on your own,” Steve said, his voice strong and serious, but his words a copy of a loving murmur that had Tony thinking he meant something else. “Asgard will be wanting to prove their good will to you, seeing as the king and queen…” He pause, searching for the right word. “…fell near their borders following an invitation to their kingdom; we can seek their assistance in suppressing any threat from Shostakova. Asgard is small in comparison, but each of their warriors is fierce enough to handle a hundred enemies.”

 

“And Shaw?” Tony prompted.

 

“I do not doubt that the king of Xavier would be unwilling to extend his assistance to us,” Steve pointed to the kingdom on the map. It didn’t escape Tony that he brushed against him when he leaned over. He was only disappointed that the armor kept him from feeling the warmth of his skin. “Our longstanding alliance with them would guarantee that they would come to our aid if and when the need arises.”

 

“It helps, I think,” Natasha interjected smoothly, “that its prince consort has a personal vendetta against Shaw’s former king and, by proxy, the kingdom itself and its new king, Johann. I believe, in fact, that it was he who instigated the uprising a decade ago that lead to King Sebastian’s beheading.” Hackles rose at the revelation and Tony’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  _That_ they didn’t know as it wasn’t mentioned in any record of the Shaw revolution. And for King Charles to have married him anyway… it was baffling.

 

“Perhaps a heavier security is warranted when King Charles and his husband come for a visit,” Phil mused out loud. Softly uttered ayes confirmed his statement, and Steve continued.

 

“Lastly, Fujikawa’s naval fleet is unparalleled, and they lie directly between us and Khan,” Steve pointed to the archipelago of Fujikawa just to the right of Khan and a fair distance away from Stark. It was small—not even a quarter of the size of either Stark or Khan—and broken, which explained why they invested heavily in their navy. Khan, like Stark, was practically landlocked which is why they focused more on their terrestrial armies. Keep them off the ground and Fujikawa would stand a chance of driving them off and keeping them away. “If we draw up an alliance with them, maybe trade with them and supply weapons, we could gain their aid in decreasing Khan’s army before they hit our shores.” When he had finished, Tony glanced around the room at the faces of his advisors and saw approval on each one, albeit grudging on Nick’s.

 

“Thank you, Sir Steven,” Peggy said on behalf of all others. She also had a look of pride on her face. “It is a sound plan, your majesty. We can ready our ambassadors to Xavier and Fujikawa at your behest, and of course, discuss this with Prince Thor immediately.” Tony nodded.

 

“I will write the letters myself; they can leave in the morning, and prepare a small banquet for the prince and my father’s study for afterwards,” he said. “I also want spies sent out as soon as possible to gather information about our nobles as well as kingdoms we haven’t discussed. We need to know what they’re thinking of this transition in case we need to prepare against them too.” They nodded in agreement. “Good. Thank you,” Tony finished. “I will be in my room if anyone should need me.” Each one of them bowed deeply in acknowledgement, so Tony turned on his heel and started toward the door.

 

The metal of Steve’s armor clattered softly as he followed, holding open the doors for him. On the other side, Tony’s entire guard stood in line, leaving space for him in the middle. It was more excessive than he was used to within the castle walls, but understandable considering the circumstances, so he bore it gracefully and allowed them to escort him to his room, only making sure that Steve joined him.

 

“Thank you, James,” Tony said, more softly than he intended. Rhodey only bowed deeply in acknowledgement and shut the doors behind him and Steve.

 

For a long moment, Tony said or did nothing, only staring at the floor while thoughts that he couldn’t quite pin down flitted through his mind. He could vaguely hear the clatter of Steve’s armor as it was shed, but his eyes were slowly blurring, so he paid it no mind. And then Steve’s arms slowly wound their way around his shoulders and drew him into the knight’s chest.

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered. A sudden sob escaped Tony. Almost in surprise, he slapped both hands over his mouth to muffle himself, but another sob escaped him, and then another and another, and then his legs were folding beneath him, and both of them were falling to the floor. “I’m here. I’m sorry. It’s all right. It’s going to be all right,” Steve whispered as he turned Tony around and tugged him onto his lap. His words were a source of comfort

 

There, he cried out every ounce of desolation, of fear, of despair he felt.

 

...............

 

Steve was summoned to Nick's officer later that day, and there was little doubt as to what this was about—Nick's attitude towards him in the meeting earlier made that clear enough. With that in mind, he steeled himself and kept caution in mind. He knocked.

  
  
"Come in," came the gruff command. Steve obeyed to find Peggy, Phil and Maria poring over the maps on the desk.

  
  
"Good evening, Commander," Steve greeted with a perfunctory salute that Nick didn't bother acknowledging. In fact the officer didn't bother looking his way at all.

  
  
"You will be deployed with a group of men to the western Khan borders. You shall lead that group to monitor military activity, warn us of an impending attack, and provide the first line of defense," Nick said easily, without pause or hesitation, and Steve had to struggle and hold back a balk of shock.

  
  
" _Why_?" he asked instead and winced when he did. Nick looked up and narrowed his good eye at him.

  
  
"Stupid question from an otherwise sensible soldier," he answered. His tone was testy and tried, making the hair on the back of Steve's neck stand at attention. "Then again, most of your actions in our absence have followed the same line of thought, have they not?"

  
  
"I did what was best for—"

  
  
"Do _not_ feed me that idiocy!" Nick yelled. Steve tensed. "You deliberately disobeyed a direct command from not one, but _two_ of your superior officers, you put his majesty in direct line of danger with your failure to report Stane, and you planned to remove his majesty from his station!" Steve knew saying anything would dig himself into a deeper hole, particularly because he was right. "You deserve to be hung for treason, Rogers," Nick added. "But his majesty would never allow it, and even I can recognize the value of your skills and strategic intelligence. So: Khan borders." He turned his back to Steve who clenched his fists to hold back emotions he couldn't identify.

  
  
"I think his majesty would have something to say about my deployment," he said. That forced Nick to turn to him again.

  
  
"Which is why he shall not be informed of this until you have left. Not all of our decisions need to be approved my his majesty; otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done." Steve wanted to yell protests at him. Nick's eye narrowed in a challenge as he sensed that. "Why do you cling to him, Sir Steven? Surely, you must have known he cannot be yours for long. He is no longer a mere prince, but a king who must sacrifice his wants for the good of the kingdom, and your relationship with him does not qualify as such." Steve swallowed.

  
  
That… That hurt because he knew Nick was right. Save for that brief moment of hope that Obadiah managed to quash, he never held any illusions that Tony could be his for good. He always knew that one day, Tony was going to have to choose the kingdom over him—that day just came earlier than they had hoped.

  
  
Nick seemed satisfied with his silence because he said, "You and your team will be leaving in two days' time. Among them will be Barton, Romanoff, and Barnes. Banner will serve as your medic." Steve knew it was punishment for them as well for having assisted. He felt conflicted about it, though; on one hand, he was thankful to have his friends with him in his exile. On the other, it was exile to them as well and a sure kill to their careers.

 

"Dismissed," Nick interrupted his thoughts when he hadn't made a word of acknowledgment towards what Nick had said. 

  
  
He left without further word (and a standard salute), but only because his thoughts were consumed by concern and indignance and sadness.

 

He wanted Tony—needed him like he needed the blood running through his veins, and he had little doubt that Tony felt the same way, but was he what the kingdom needed? 

  
  
The kingdom needed a queen or prince consort who knew how to work politics, who would inspire confidence, who would be able to help forge alliances, draw up treaties, and entertain visiting dignitaries. Nothing about him, a commoner-born, low ranking knight, said any of that.

  
  
Steve bit his lip and then went off in search of Bucky and the others.

 

...............

 

"Stupid," Natasha snapped at him, and honestly, he had never seen her quite so furious before. That single word, spoken after Steve's incredibly long, incredibly detailed, and incredibly heartfelt speech about how they were going on a noble and important reconnaissance mission for the kingdom, was quickly followed up with a stream of Shostakovan words that Steve was pretty sure were invectives. Clint looked half amused at Natasha's temper and half concerned for Steve. Bucky, and Bruce were merely concerned.

  
  
"It is what is deemed best for the kingdom, Natasha," Steve answered, and it was the absolute truth, but it was something he couldn’t accept, so he couldn't meet her eyes. He was more than a little convinced that Natasha was omnipotent, and the way he could feel her glare boring holes into his head proved it so. He wasn’t about to hand her ammunition and convince him to act contrary to what was best for Tony.

  
  
"Bullshit," she snapped once more. "You allowed Sir Nicholas into your head. You let him poison your mind." Steve didn't deny it. "He has no right to decide what is best for the people, Steven—"

  
  
"I think he quite certainly does, Natasha. Head of the royal guard and all that," Steve answered, testy as Natasha gave him hope he couldn't bear to have.

  
  
"He isn't king, he doesn't have the king's power, no matter what he likes to think," she countered. "Tell his majesty. He would overturn Fury in an instant."

  
  
"And then what? Anthony and I live happily ever after?" he scoffed, making Natasha adopt an affronted look. The slight tremor of nervousness he felt shoot through him at her look told him he shouldn't try to piss her off, but he ignored the inkling and persevered in trying to get his point across. "This is no fairytale, Lady Natasha. We do not get what we want. He has a duty toward the people; he has a duty to give them what is best for them. Tell me, _tell me_ that marrying me, a common-born knight, is far better for the kingdom than marrying, say, Princess Rumiko of Fujikawa? She who is well versed in politics and etiquette and culture, she who can bring an important alliance in the face of Khan's threat, she who can gain more important alliances from her own allies and friends?" Natasha could lie as well as the best of them, but Steve would know, without a single shred of doubt, that if she contradicted him, she would be.

  
  
"And what of his majesty?" Natasha asked instead. "Is his happiness not important for the good of the kingdom? Is his happiness not important for you?" It was to him—oh _God_ , how it _was_. If he could do everything in his power to put a smile on Tony's face everyday for the rest of their lives, he would, but in the grand scheme of things, he knew that Tony didn't need to be happy to be an effective ruler. No, his happiness wasn't important to the kingdom.

 

He didn't answer her, so she turned thoughtful. 

  
  
"I think this isn't about the kingdom at all," she mused easily, casually. She turned toward the others for confirmation, but none of them reflected back to her the casualness she was trying to feign. She turned back to Steve who did his best to not punch her—partly because she was a lady (she could take it; he'd seen her take punches before, but that still didn't make it polite), but mostly because she was his friend. As she spoke, though, he struggled with that decision even more. "I think this is because you're afraid of him rejecting you, that he'll agree to what Fury says. You're afraid that he'll choose duty over happiness—" 

  
  
Steve snapped.

  
  
"HE WILL!" he yelled, lashing an arm out and punching the wall. Hard. Pain shot through his arm, but he barely noticed it beyond the startling clarity and focus it gave him. "He will, and I don't want to make it any harder for him than it has to be," he snarled. Natasha pressed her lips together, so Steve drew in a deep calming breath. It wouldn't do him well to further antagonize his friends and comrades. "Look, I'm sorry that you had to be dragged into this. I'm sorry that your careers are ruined because—because of me… But it's over for us. We never should have started this to begin with, and I'm going to have to deal with the repercussions of having made it so." He stood and shouldered past Bruce who stood at the doorway of Bucky's room. He paused once when he stood in the hallway.

  
  
"We're leaving at noontime in two days. Get yourselves ready," he told them and waited for no further answer.

 

...............

 

“Am I interrupting?” came a pleasantly deep voice from the study’s doorway. It wasn’t the pleasantly deep voice Tony wanted to hear, though, so he was half tempted to tell it to fuck off. But then that would have been terribly impolite and possibly dangerous for him and his kingdom because it was Prince Thor who was speaking, and in light of his assistance and kindness, Tony figured he should return the courtesy.

 

“No. No, my lord. Please do join me,” he gestured to one of the chairs while simultaneously returning his father’s notes to where he found them. They weren’t making any sense to him anyway, not when his mind was so preoccupied with another matter entirely.

 

“I have expressed my condolences yesterday, but please do accept them once more,” Thor said, settling down in the chair to Tony’s right. He shifted the heavy robes Tony had given him to settle in more comfortably in the chair. They weren’t the right size (smaller than had to be comfortable, but there weren’t many spare pieces of clothing in Thor’s size) or his style (Asgardians tended to favor practical, fitted attire that could easily accommodate armor, as opposed to the nobility of Stark that tended to favor flowing, overly embroidered robes), but the crown prince bore such discomforts graciously. The king managed a weak smile in response to his words.

 

“And as I have said last night, I am grateful for your assistance and your sympathy,” he answered, but elaborated no further. He glanced out of the window knowing it opened into the courtyard below where servants and soldiers were running around, preparing for the deployment of their intelligence group to Khan—the same group that Steve would be leading. It was an important and necessary task, and Tony couldn’t have prevented it even if he wanted to, but Steve’s inclusion in it—and Natasha’s and Clint’s and Barnes’s and Bruce’s—only left him feeling bereft.

 

Clint and Natasha had approached him last night and told him about it. They told him that they had tried to get Steve to talk to him, but the knight wouldn’t budge, convinced as he was that he was a hindrance to the kingdom, so they took matters into their own hands. Predictably, Tony sought Sir Nicholas out to demand answers, and the commander didn’t deny a single statement.

 

“You are king now, Anthony,” Nick has said; he hadn’t looked particularly worried. “But just because you are does not invalidate the reasons your father had in wanting any marriage with you to bring political gain. He knew what was best for all of us, and he worked for that goal—this is one thing he had foreseen would lead to that. That you would be unhappy, that you would not have the life you want, that your relationship with him would be tainted with resentment and distance was a risk he was willing to take for the good of the kingdom.” Nick drew himself up and left Tony feeling little before him. “His goal is my goal, and it is my duty to see to its fulfillment. Your father was a wise man, and his actions and decisions necessary. His methods have become my own, and if he believed that keeping Sir Steven away from you must be done, then I shall carry it out even in the event of his death. Overturn me if you want, your majesty, but bear in mind the consequences of doing so. You are king now, and the needs of the people supersede your own.”

 

Tony bit his lip as he considered that because Sir Nicholas was right, and keeping Steve here while knowing that they could never be together was going to be nothing short of torture for both of them.

 

“May I intrude on your thoughts?” Thor asked. It was odd to hear such gentleness from a man who dwarfed Tony by at least a foot in height and one hundred pounds in sheer muscle mass. The Asgardians were fierce warriors, like Steve had said, and Thor was the best of them all. So to hear that tone from him and to see a wisdom in his eyes that Tony couldn’t hope to match in the near future, it was disconcerting. He outranked Thor now, but after thirty years of being trained to take over the throne compared to Tony’s sixteen, Thor was more experienced, more well-versed in being a true ruler than Tony was.

 

“I just…” Tony heaved a sigh and looked down at his hands. “I have all the answers to all my questions, and yet I find myself looking for different ones.”

 

“Or maybe you simply are not asking the right questions,” Thor suggested. Tony looked up at him, frowned, thought for a moment, and then spoke.

 

“Can I be happy and be a good ruler at the same time?” he tried. Thor smiled and nodded, but Tony only frowned further. “Can I marry for love and not be thought selfish?” Thor’s smile turned gentle at the edges, but without hesitation, he nodded once more.

 

“Your father was a very wise man who my father often sought out for advice,” he started to explain. “But he was also very pragmatic, often at the expense of his happiness and that of the people he loved and who loved him. I understand why he believed that you must sacrifice your wants for the good of the people: political alliances through marriage are easy and often very strong. And as a young king, an experienced spouse will help you greatly.” Once again, Tony was reminded how _not ready_ he was for all of this. “But, Anthony, they are not infallible, and they are not the only way to forge alliances. Your father married your mother for that reason, and it has been a noble and successful union, but many others have had an equally successful union even having married out of love: my father and mother, for one, King Charles and his spouse, another. Contessa Valentina of Fontaine and King T’Challa of Wakanda have also been known to have wed their true loves, and yet all of us enjoy successful and peaceful lands and have the immediate support of our allies.” Thor placed his hand on Tony’s arm.

 

“Understand that you will always have Asgard’s support, Anthony, and with our support, you will also have that of our allies. I do not boast in saying that this support is something to be scoffed at, so fear not marrying the person you love; to the best of our capacity, we will assist you in your kingdom’s protection,” he assured Tony, and then added, “I, for one, greatly support your union to Sir Steven.” Tony’s attention snapped to him, and he blinked in confusion which made Thor laugh heartily. “Did you think I would not know? It would have taken a fool greater than I to fail to see the love you hold for each other.” He winked outrageously, which made Tony grin.

 

“I’ve never thought you a fool, Prince Thor,” he said. Thor patted his arm as he laughed.

 

“I would be happy if you managed to convince my brother of that.” They shared a laugh that flooded Tony with relief and happiness… and hope.

 

...............

 

The throne room was lit up and decorated grandly, as though a ball was just about to begin. The chandeliers glowed with light and garlands of flowers hung from every surface. The carpet ran from the door to the foot of the throne’s platform. Everything was polished to sparkling perfection.

 

And yet the room was empty, save for one.

  
  
Steve found Tony draped insouciantly, irreverently over the throne, one leg hanging over the arm and swinging casually. He was wearing his best clothes, and his favorite crown was on his head, tilted to one side to further the insouciant aura. 

  
  
Normally, Steve would have had to hide his grin at the display of mocking humor—Tony always said that when he was going to take over, he would do so with _style_ , and had several times demonstrated in good humor just how he intended to do so. Now, though, there was only a somberness brought about by the enormity of the situation that this was no longer a mere demonstration.

  
  
He marched down the carpet from the door to the foot of the throne with the dignity and respect expected of a knight in the presence of the king, even if there was no one to appreciate it. He had on his full military regalia, armor and all, that was a response to the threat brought about by the sudden change in monarchy—they had to be ready for any potential attack at any point in time from those who though the change would bring discord to Stark. In fact, he had been at a briefing for their deployment to the borders fronting Khan when he had been called for.

  
  
As he neared the throne, he fell to one knee and bowed his head. "Your majesty," was his perfunctory greeting. And for a moment more, neither of them said anything. Then he felt Tony shift in his seat and stand.

  
  
"Two days ago, you called me 'Tony,'" he said, voice serious and neutral. "Today, 'your majesty.'" Steve held his position, having nothing to say to that.

  
  
Two days ago, Tony was his darling prince, the apple of his eye, his spoiled little lover. Two days ago, he was young and joyful and carefree. Two days ago, he was Steve's. 

  
  
Today, Tony belonged to the kingdom, and Steve didn't know where he fit in with that.

 

"Do you resent that we're no longer following through with our plans?" Tony asked. Steve's head snapped up at that. He had to straighten up a bit to meet Tony's eyes who stood on the raised dais. The brown eyes were hard, and serious… and hurt.

  
  
"No, your majesty. Of course not."

 

"Are you fearful of the repercussions of being with me?"

  
  
"I would not have accepted our relationship if I had been."

  
  
"Then are you repulsed by my new status?" Steve blinked in surprise.

  
  
"There is nothing— _nothing_ —you can do that I will be repulsed by. And especially not by something you cannot control," he answered firmly. And it was the truth.

  
  
"Then why are you acting like you don't even know me?!" There was a whine in Tony's exclamation that was _worlds_ away from petulant. It was so far from petulant that it drove guilt like a spike through Steve's heart. He winced and dropped his eyes.

  
  
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, Anthony, I—" The king fell to his knees in front of Steve and halted any more words. He took Steve's face in his hands and tilted it up, and then before Steve could say anything more, Tony kissed him.

  
  
He kissed Steve like it was both the first and the last time he would ever do so. He kissed Steve with the desperation of a dying man. He kissed Steve to convince him that everything— _everything_ —was going to change. Everything, except this.

  
  
"I love you," Tony very nearly sobbed into his mouth, clinging to him tightly. Another bout of guilt lanced through him, so Steve dragged him into another kiss full of apology and promise and reassurance. "I love you, Steve. Please don't leave me," Tony begged, his voice tight and small, and Steve wanted to punch himself.

  
  
" _Never_ , Tony," he whispered back fiercely. He pulled Tony onto his lap and peppered his face with kisses. "I'll never leave you. I never intended to do so." He kissed Tony full and hard on the mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry for making you worry. I just—I didn't know where I fit in. I didn't want to distract you from what you needed to do, and I'm sorry, darling." Tony buried his face in Steve's chest, and at that moment, Steve remembered that he was so very, very young and such a great burden had suddenly been thrust upon his shoulders. He tightened his hold around Tony’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head, and then he knew. He knew that _this_ was where he fit in, _this_ was where he needed to be. Right here, wrapped around his king.

 

“Stay with me, Steve,” Tony murmured. He sounded stronger now, and Steve was glad for it.

 

“Of course I will. You needn’t have asked,” he answered, kissing Tony’s head again. The king stiffened in his arms, though, which made Steve confused.

 

“No,” Tony said. “No, I meant… stay. _Stay_ with me.” Steve blinked to which Tony frowned and sat up. He pulled Steve toward him and kissed him long and hard, and when he pulled away, he drew in a deep breath. “I realize this isn’t the best way to—and I’m sorry I nearly cried over you, but I promise I had a whole speech prepared, and—” He gestured around the room “—the throne room done up, so that I could ask. And I—but then I saw you and I forgot it all.” His speech was a collection of halted words and vague gestures that only confused Steve more than enlightened him.

 

“What?” he tried again. Tony let out a sharp breath that fluttered his hair.

 

“What I’m _trying_ to say,” he said. The annoyance in his tone was clearly directed at himself. He took in another deep breath. “Is… Steve, will… will you marry me?” Steve blinked. Once. Twice. And then again.

 

“…What?” was his intelligent question. Tony huffed.

 

“I said—”

 

“No, no, I heard you,” Steve interrupted, but he needed a moment to process the question. He blinked again.

 

“I can give you a moment,” Tony said, inching away, but Steve grabbed him and pulled him back into his arms. He didn’t need a moment. He didn’t need a _thousand_ moments. He wrapped a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and kissed him with every single ounce of passion he could muster, and pulled back only enough to whisper his answer against Tony’s lips.

 

“Yes.”


End file.
